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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT   LOS  ANGELES 


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THE  FISHER  MAIDEN 


WORKS  OF 
BJORNSTJERNE  BJORNSON 

PATRIOTS   EDITION 

The  Fisher  Maiden 

Translated  from  the  Norse 
By 

Rasmus  B.  Anderson 


NEW  YORK 
DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE  &  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1881, 1882, 
Bt  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN    &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


vr 

nv 


t^n 


■crh, 


PREFACE. 


Thb  Fisher  Maiden  was  written  in  1867  and 
1868,  and  was  published  simultaneously  in  Norway 
and  Grermany.  The  popularity  of  the  story  is 
sufficiently  demonstrated  by  the  fact  that  it  has 
appeared  in  four  German  and  in  two  English  trans- 
lations, the  present  being  the  third. 

The  characters  are,  perhaps,  less  ideal  than  those 
of  his  peasant  stories,  and  the  style  thronghont  in- 
dicates that  the  author  has  entered  upon  a  new  era 
in  his  literary  develota^ent.  His  aim  here  is  to 
show  how  irresistible  is  the  power  of  innate  yoca- 
tion  and  natural  talent,  and  to  vindicate  the  theatre 
as  a  place  not  only  of  amusement,  but  also  of  in- 
struction, against  the  unjust  criticisms  of  the  clergy. 

In  the  weird  poem,  in  the  eleventh  chapter,  on 
the  young  viking,  Mr.  Bjomson  depicts,  in  strangely 
profound  sentences,  his  own  career,  his  early  strug- 
gles, and  the  victory  he  so  quickly  gained.  Indeed^ 
as  Bjornson  said  to  me  in  1872,  the  Fisher  Maiden 
8  Bjdrnson  himself,  and  in  the  yoong  viking  h« 


6  PREFACE. 

has  ^ven,  in  a  few  enigmatic  strokes,  a  picture  of 
both  the  heroine  and  the  author.  Nowhere  does 
Mr.  Bjoruson's  patriotism  burst  forth  in  purer  and 
nobler  strains  than  in  the  short  poem  that  follows 
soon  after  that  on  the  young  viking.  It  is  all 
aglow  with  love  and  pride  and  confidence  and  hope, 
and  is  a  perfect  mirror  of  the  poet's  feelings  and 
aspirations  in  the  midst  of  his  great  success. 

The  poems  in  this  volume  are  translated  by  Au- 
gusta Plesner  and  Frederika  Richardson,  with  the 
exception  of  the  one  at  the  end  of  chapter  iv.,  be- 
ginning, *'  Ah,  sweet  is  Love's  first  meeting ! "  and 
the  one  in  chapter  ix.,  beginning  "  Joy  now  is  kin- 
dled," both  of  which  are  by  Auber  Forestier.  Music 
has  been  written  for  "Ah,  sweet  is  Love's  first 
meeting,"  by  Halfdan  Kjerulf,  and  for  "  Joy  now 
is  kindled,"  by  Edward  Grieg.  The  latter  may  b« 
found  in  the  "Norway  Music  Album." 


RASMUS   B.  ANDERSON 


AkOARD,  MiU>ISOM,   WlBCONBIK. 

March,  1883. 


^  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

•5 


c 


CK 


CHAPTER  I. 


WiTKRB  herring  have  for  a  long  time  been 
caught  in  abundance,  there  gradually  growg 
up  a  town,  provided  that  other  circumstances 
are  favorable.     Not  only  may  it  be  said  of  such 

S  towns  that  they  are  cast  up  out  of  the  sea, 
but  at  a  great  distance  they  actually  resemble 
washed-up  timber  and  fragments  of  wreck,  or 
a  mass  of  keeled  boats,  overturned  by  the 
fishermen  for  shelter  some  stormy  night.  A 
nearer  view  shows  how  entirely  by  chance  the 
whole  has  been  built,  for  here  a  rock  lies  in  the 

"^^^jnidst  of  a  thoroughfare,  there  water  divides 
the  borough  into  three  or  four  parts,  while 
the  streets  wind  and  curve  in  every  direction. 
But  there  is  one  quality  common  to  them  all : 
there  is  refuge  in  the  harbor  for  the  largest 
■hips ;  it  is  as  snug  in  there  as  in  a  box ;  and 
therefore  these  havens  are  very  grateful  to 
▼easels  that  with  tattered   sails   and  battered 


287622 


8  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

balwarks  are  driven  in  from  the  open  sea  in 
search  of  a  breathing-place. 

In  a  small  tovm  of  this  kind  all  is  still; 
everything  noisy  is  banished  to  the  wharves, 
where  are  moored  the  peasants'  boats,  and 
where  ships  load  and  unload.  Along  the 
wharves  runs  the  one  street  of  our  little  town ; 
the  white  and  red  one  and  two-story  houses 
are  on  the  opposite  side ;  but  they  are  not 
built  wall  to  wall,  they  have  neat  gardens 
around  them;  and  so  there  is  a  long,  broad 
street  which,  when  the  wind  blows  landward, 
is  filled  with  the  odor  of  whatever  may  be  on 
the  wharves.  It  is  quiet  here  —  not  from  fear 
of  the  police,  for  as  a  rule  there  is  none,  —  but 
from  dread  of  gossip,  since  all  the  inhabitants 
know  one  another.  When  you  walk  down  the 
street  you  must  bow  at  each  window,  where 
usually  sits  an  old  lady  who  is  ready  to  return 
your  greeting.  Moreover,  you  must  salute  ev- 
ery one  you  meet ;  for  all  these  people,  as  they 
move  so  noiselessly  about,  are  continually  re- 
flecting on  what  is  proper  in  general  and  for 
themselves  in  particular.  He  who  oversteps 
the  standard  prescribed  for  his  rank  or  social 
position,  forfeits  his  good  name ,  for  not  only 
is  he  known  to  his  neigh  oors,  but  so  are  his 
father  and  his  grandfather,  and  inquiries  are 


THE   nSHKR   MAIDEN.  >• 

at  once  made  as  to  whether  there  has  ever  be- 
fore been  seen  a  tendency  in  the  family  to  un- 
seciuly  behavior. 

To  this  peaceful  town  fared,  many  years  ago, 
that  worthy  man,  Per  Olsen.  He  came  from 
the  country,  where  he  had  earned  a  livelihood 
by  peddling  and  fiddling.  He  opened  a  shop 
in  the  town  for  his  old  customers,  where,  in 
addition  to  his  other  wares,  he  sold  brandy  and 
bread;  and  he  might  often  be  heard  pacing 
up  and  down  in  the  chamber  behind  the  shop, 
playing  spring-dances  and  wedding-marches. 
Each  time  he  passed  the  glass  loop-hole  in  the 
door,  he  would  peep  through,  and  if  a  customer 
was  entering  the  shop  he  would  wind  up  his 
playing  with  a  trill  and  go  in.  Business  flour 
Ished ;  he  married  and  had  a  son  whom  he 
named  after  himself,  calling  him  not  Per, 
though,  but  Peter. 

Little  Peter  was  to  become  what  Per  knew 
he  was  not  —  an  educated  man ;  and  so  the  boy 
was  entered  at  the  Latin  school.  When  those 
who  should  have  been  his  comrades  thrashed 
him  home  from  their  games  because  he  was  a 
son  of  Per  Olsen,  his  father  thrashed  him  back 
again,  —  there  was  no  other  way  of  educating 
the  boy.  Consequently  little  Peter  felt  for- 
saken at  school,  grew  indolent,  and  gradually 


10  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

became  so  totally  indifferent  to  everything  that 
his  father  could  neither  beat  a  smile  nor  a  tear 
out  of  him.  Then  Per  did  away  with  the  flog- 
gings and  placed  the  boy  in  the  shop.  Greatly 
was  he  astonished  when  he  saw  his  son  dealing 
out  to  each  customer  exactly  what  was  asked 
for,  neither  giving  a  grain  too  much,  nor  eating 
a  prune  himself,  but  weighing,  reckoning,  and 
entering  the  sales,  with  unmoved  countenance, 
usually  without  speaking,  and  though  slowly 
yet  with  scrupulous  accuracy. 

Again  the  father  became  hopeful,  and  sent 
his  son  by  a  herring  boat  to  Hamburg,  in 
order  to  place  him  at  a  commercial  college,  and 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  acquire  polished 
manners.  Peter  was  absent  eight  months  ;  that 
was  long  enough,  no  doubt.  Before  starting 
for  home  he  had  provided  himself  with  six  new 
suits  of  clothes,  and  when  he  landed  he  wore 
them  all,  one  ovor  the  other,  "for  all  articles 
in  actual  wear  are  exempt  from  duty."  He 
made  precisely  the  same  appearance  in  the 
street  the  next  day  as  when  he  came  ashore, 
minus  his  circumference.  He  walked  stiff  and 
straight,  without  a  curve  in  his  arms  or  hands ; 
Vie  bowed  with  a  sudden  jerk,  bending  as  if  he 
had  no  joints,  only  to  grow  the  next  moment 
as  rigid  as  ever;  he  had  become  the  embodi- 


THE  FISUEB   MAIDEN.  11 

uent  of  politeness,  but  not  a  word  did  he  have 
to  say  for  himself ;  his  manners  were  abrupt 
and  tinged  with  a  certain  shyness.  He  no 
longer  wrote  his  name  Olsen,  but  Ohlsen, 
\i(^hich  gave  the  wags  of  the  town  opportunity 
for  the  following  conundrum  :  — 

"  How  far  did  Peter  Olsen  get  in  Hamburg?  " 

Answer:  " To  the  first  letter." 

He  had  furthermore  meditated  calling  him- 
self "  Pedro  ;  "  but  having  had  so  much  annoy- 
ance to  endure  for  the  sake  of  the  A,  he  gave 
up  this  idea  and  subscribed  himself  P.  Ohlsen. 
He  enlarged  his  father's  business,  and  at  the 
age  of  twenty-two  married  a  shop-girl  with 
red  hands  in  order  to  have  some  one  to 'keep 
house ;  for  his  father  had  just  become  a  widower 
and  Peter  thought  it  was  safer  to  take  a  wife 
than  a  housekeeper.  On  the  anniversary  of 
their  wedding-day,  she  presented  him  with  a 
son,  who  a  week  later  was  christened  Pedro. 

Now  that  worthy  Per  Olsen  had  become  a 
grandfather,  he  felt,  as  it  were,  an  inner  call  to 
grow  old,  so  he  gave  up  his  business  to  his  son, 
took  a  seat  on  a  bench  outside  the  door  and 
smoked  plug  tobacco  in  a  short  pipe.  Discov- 
ering one  day  that  life  was  growing  tedious  out 
there  he  began  to  wish  for  a  speedy  death,  and 
as  all  his  wishes  had  been  quietly  fulfilled,  so  H 
was  with  this  one. 


12  THE  FISH£R  MAIDEN. 

While  Peter,  the  son,  had  inherited  exolu* 
flively  one  side  of  his  father's  talents — business 
shrewdness,  —  Pedro,  the  grandson,  seemed  to 
have  exclusively  inherited  the  other  —  taste 
and  ear  for  music.  He  was  veiy  slow  in  learn- 
ing to  read,  but  could  sing  quite  early;  he 
played  the  flute  so  well  that  he  attracted  much 
attention ;  he  had  a  refined  look  and  a  tender 
heart.  This,  however,  was  only  a  source  of  an- 
noyance to  his  father,  who  wanted  to  bring  the 
boy  up  to  his  own  business-like  activity.  When 
Pedro  was  forgetful  about  anything,  he  was 
neither  scolded  nor  flogged  as  his  father  had 
been ;  he  was  pinched.  This  was  done  very  qui- 
etly, with  a  kindliness  of  manner  that  might  al- 
most be  termed  politeness.  Each  evening  when 
his  mother  undressed  him  she  counted  the  black 
and  blue  spots  on  his  body  and  covered  them 
with  kisses ;  but  she  offered  no  resistance,  for 
she  herself  got  pinched.  For  every  rent  in  the 
boy's  clothes,  —  which  were  his  father's  Ham- 
burg suits  made  over,  —  for  every  stain  on  his 
school-books,  she  was  blamed.  Consequently, 
the  continual  cry  was :  "  Do  not  do  that,  Pedro  I 
Take  care,  Pedro  I  Remember,  Pedro ! "  —  and 
the  boy  was  afraid  of  his  father  and  tired  of  his 
mother.  At  the  hands  of  his  comrades  he  suf- 
fered no  harm,  as  he  always  began  to  cry  at  the 


THE   FISHEB  MAIDEN.  18 

least  provocation  and  beg  them  to  spare  his 
cluthes;  but  he  was  nicknamed  '^withered- 
branch,"  and  not  deemed  worthy  of  much  notice. 
He  was  like  a  sickly,  featherless  duckling,  al- 
ways waddling  about  after  the  flock  and  running 
far  away  by  itself  to  eat  the  scanty  morsel  it  had 
succeeded  in  snatching  from  the  others.  No 
one  shared  with  him,  neither  did  he,  therefore, 
share  with  any  one. 

Soon,  however,  he  discovered  that  his  lot 
would  be  different  among  the  humbler  children 
of  the  town ;  they  had  more  patience  with  him 
because  he  was  more  genteel  than  they.  A 
tall,  sturdy  girl,  who  held  undisputed  sway  over 
a  whole  troop  of  boys,  took  a  fancy  to  him.  He 
never  grew  weary  of  looking  at  her.  She  had 
raven-black  hair  which  formed  one  mass  of 
curls  about  her  head,  and  was  never  combed 
save  with  the  fingers;  she  had  vigorous  blue 
eyes,  a  narrow  brow,  and  all  her  features  blended 
into  but  one  expression.  She  was  always  in  a 
whirl  of  excitement  or  at  work,  went  barefoot, 
bare-armed,  and  sunburned  in  the  summer,  and 
in  the  winter  was  clad  as  lightly  as  other  chil- 
dren are  in  the  summer.  Her  father  was  a  pilot 
and  fisherman ;  she  ran  from  house  to  house  sell- 
ing his  fish,  she  sat  at  the  oars  keeping  the  boat 
Rtill  against  wind  and  tide,  and  when  he  was 


14  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

out  piloting,  she  carried  on  the  fishing  alone. 
No  one  could  pass  her  without  turning  to  take 
a  second  look,  so  self-reliant  was  shei  Her 
name  was  Guulaug,  but  she  was  called  the 
fisher  maiden,  a  title  she  accepted  as  her  rank. 
In  the  childish  games  she  always  sided  with 
the  weak ;  she  had  an  impulse  to  defend  others, 
and  she  now  became  the  protector  of  this  re- 
fined, delicate  boy. 

In  her  boat  he  could  play  his  flute,  which 
had  been  solemnly  forbidden  at  home,  as  it  was 
thought  it  would  take  his  mind  from  his  studies. 
She  rowed  him  out  on  the  fjord,  she  took  him 
with  her  on  her  long  fishing  expeditions,  soon 
he  even  made  night  excursions  with  her.  They 
used  to  row  out  toward  the  setting  sun  in  the 
clear,  calm  summer  evenings,  he  playing  his 
flute,  or  listening  to  her  while  she  told  him  all 
she  knew  aJ)out  mermen,  spectres,  shipwi'ecks, 
foreign  lands,  and  black  people,  just  as  she  had 
heard  it  from  the  sailors.  She  shared  her  food 
with  him  as  she  did  her  knowledge,  and  he 
accepted  all,  giving  nothing  in  return ;  for  he 
neither  brought  food  from  home  nor  imagina- 
tion from  school.  They  would  row  about  until 
the  sun  went  down  behind  the  snow-clad  mount- 
ains and  then,  landing  on  some  rocky  island, 
kindle  a  fire,  that  is,  she  would  gather  together 


THE   FISUER   MAIDEN.  15 

twigs  and  brushwood,  while  be  sat  and  looked  on. 
She  always  carried  along  with  her  one  of  her  fa- 
ther's sea-jackets  and  a  bed-spread  for  him  ;  in 
these  she  would  wrap  him.  She  tended  the  fire 
and  he  went  to  sleep ;  she  kept  herself  awake 
with  snatches  of  songs  and  hymns,  singing  in  a 
loud  clear  voice  until  he  was  asleep,  then  in  a 
softer  tone.  When  the  sun  once  more  rose  in 
the  opposite  horizon,  and  cast  over  the  mount- 
ains a  pale  yellow  light  as  a  harbinger  of  its 
approach,  she  would  awaken  him.  The  forest 
was  still  dark,  the  meadow  gloomy,  but  both 
gradually  became  suffused  with  a  gleaming, 
roseate  light  until  the  mountain  ctest  glowed 
and  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  came  pouring 
over  the  scene.  Then  they  would  push  the 
boat  back  into  the  water,  plow  the  waves  in 
the  dark  morning  breeze,  and  soon  near  the 
shore  where  the  other  fishermen  were  anchored. 
When  winter  set  in  and  the  trips  ceased,  he 
sought  her  in  her  home;  he  came  frequently 
and  watched  her  while  she  worked ;  but  neither 
he  nor  she  spoke  much ;  it  seemed  as  if  they 
were  merely  waiting  together  for  the  summer 
When  it  came  it  robbed  him,  alas,  of  the  new 
prospects  life  was  unfolding  to  him.  Gunlang's 
father  died,  and  she  left  the  town,  while  Pedro, 
by  the  advice  of  his  teachers,  was  put  into  the 


16  THE  nSHEB  MAIDEN. 

shop  There  he  served  behind  the  counter 
with  his  mother ;  for  his  father,  who  had  grad- 
ually become  the  color  of  the  groats  he  had  so 
long  been  weighing,  was  forced  to  take  to  his 
bed  in  the  back  chamber.  Even  from  there  he 
wanted  to  have  part  in  everything  going  on ; 
must  know  what  each  one  had  sold,  but  would 
pretend  not  to  hear  until  he  got  his  wife  or  son 
near  enough  to  pinch  them.  And  when  the 
wick  had  become  quite  dry  in  this  small  lamp, 
one  night  it  went  out.  The  wife  wept,  she 
knew  not  precisely  why ;  but  the  son  could  not 
press  out  a  tear.  As  they  had  money  enough 
to  live  on,  they  wound  up  the  business,  re- 
moved every  trace  of  it,  and  turned  the  shop 
into  a  sitting-room.  There  the  mother  sat  by 
the  window  knitting  stockings;  Pedro  estab- 
lished himself  in  the  room  on  the  other  side  of 
the  passage,  and  devoted  his  time  to  flute-play- 
ing. No  sooner  had  summer  come,  however, 
than  he  bought  a  little  light  sailing-boat,  crossed 
over  to  the  rocky  island,  and  stopped  where 
Gimlaug  was  wont  to  anchor. 

And  one  day,  as  he  lay  reposing  in  the 
heather,  he  saw  a  b*oat  steering  straight  toward 
him ;  it  came  alongside  his  own,  and  Gunlaug 
stepped  out.  She  was  wholly  unchanged,  al- 
though she  was   now  fully  grown   and   tallttr 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  17 

than  other  women.  But  the  moment  she  laid 
eyes  on  him  she  slowly  drew  back ;  it  had  not 
occurred  to  her  that  he  too  had  grown  up. 

She  did  not  know  this  pale,  thin  face ;  it  was 
no  longer  sickly  and  refined,  it  was  dull  and 
heavy.  But  as  he  gazed  at  her  his  eyes  became 
filled  with  the  calm  light  of  bygone  dreams ; 
she  came  forward  again,  and  each  step  nearer 
seemed  to  take  a  year  from  him;  when  she 
stood  beside  him,  where  he  had  jumped  up,  he 
laughed  like  a  child,  talked  like  a  child ;  that 
old  face  was  like  a  mask  concealing  a  hidden 
child :  he  had  become  older,  it  was  true,  but 
he  had  not  grown. 

Still,  it  was  just  this  child  she  was  seeking, 
and  now  that  she  had  found  him  again  she 
knew  not  what  next  she  should  do ;  she  laughed 
and  blushed.  Involuntarily  he  felt  something 
like  power  rising  within  him;  it  was  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life.  At  the  same  moment  he 
grew  handsome  —  it  was,  perhaps,  but  for  an 
instant,  but  in  that  instant  she  was  won. 

Hers  was  one  of  those  natures  that  can  only 
love  the  weak  on  whom  tenderness  has  been 
lavished  by  them.  She  had  meant  to  pass  two 
days  in  town ;  she  remained  two  months.  Dur- 
ing these  two  months  Pedro  grew  more  than 
during  all  the  rest  of  his  youth ;  he  was  so  far 

9 


18     '  THE  FISHER  MATOEN. 

aplif ted  beyond  his  dream-life  and  lethargy  that 
he  made  plans  —  he  resolved  to  go  abroad  and 
study  music.  One  day  when  he  was  speaking 
of  this,  she  grew  pale  and  said:  "Yes  —  but 
then  we  must  get  married  first."  He  looked  at 
her;  she  fixed  her  eyes  firmly  on  him  in  return ; 
then  they  both  flushed  crimson,  and  he  said, 
"  What  would  people  say  to  that  ?  " 

Gunlaug  had  never  imagined  that  he  could 
have  a  will  opposed  to  her  own,  because  she  bad 
never  cherished  a  wish  that  was  not  his.  But 
now  she  read  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  that  he 
had  never  for  a  moment  thought  of  sharing  with 
her  anything  but  what  she  herself  had  given. 
In  one  minute  she  discovered  that  it  had  been 
thus  all  their  lives.  She  had  begun  with  com- 
passion and  ended  with  love  for  the  object  of 
her  own  kindness.  Well  for  her  could  she 
but  have  retained  her  self-control  a  little  while 
longer.  He  saw  her  rising  anger,  and  in  terror 
cried :  **  I  will."  She  heard  it ;  but  indignation 
at  her  own  stupidity  and  his  wretched  weakness, 
at  her  own  shame  and  his  cowardice,  seethed 
up  with  such  fiery  speed  to  the  point  of  explo- 
sion, that  never  did  love  kindled  in  childhood 
und  radiant  sunset,  cradled  by  the  waves  and 
moonbeams,  with  the  tones  of  a  flute  and  low 
singing  for  an    accompaniment,  have  a  more 


THE   FISUER   MAIDEN.  Ift 

sorrowful  end.  She  seized  him  with  both  hands, 
lifted  him  from  the  ground  and  thrashed  him 
to  her  heart's  content ;  then  she  rowed  back  to 
town  and  forthwith  started  on  foot  across  the 
mountains. 

Pedro  had  sailed  out  that  morning  a  love- 
sick youth,  on  his  way  to  conquer  manhood ; 
he  rowed  home  again  an  aged  person  who  had 
never  known  manhood.  His  life  owned  but  one 
remembrance,  and  that  his  own  folly  had  lost ; 
he  had  but  one  place  of  resort  in  the  world,  and 
thither  he  no  longer  dared  go.  While  brooding 
over  his  own  wretchedness  and  how  all  this  had 
come  to  pass,  his  enterprising  mood  sank,  as  it 
were,  into  a  slough,  never  more  to"  rise.  The 
small  boys  of  the  town,  remarking  his  strange 
ways,  «oon  began  tormenting  him,  and  as  he 
had  always  been  a  mysterious  character  to  the 
townsfolk,  no  one  knowing  anything  about  his 
ways  or  means,  it  did  not  occur  to  any  one  to 
interfere  in  his  behalf.  Soon  he  scarcely  dared 
Btir  out  of  his  house,  at  all  events,  not  in  the 
streets.  His  whole  existence  became  one  strug- 
gle with  the  boys,  who  doubtless  did  him  the 
same  service  as  gnats  of  a  hot  summer  day: 
without  them  he  would  have  sunk  into  an  un- 
broken stupor. 

Nine  years  later  Ganlaug  returned  to  the 


20  THE  FISHER  MAmEN. 

town  quite  as  unexpectedly  as  she  had  left  it. 
She  brought  with  her  a  little  girl  about  eight 
years  old,  the  image  of  her  former  self,  only 
that  everything  about  the  child  was  more  re- 
fined and  seemed,  so  to  speak,  as  if  wrapt  in 
a  dream.  Gunlaug  had  been  married,  it  was 
said,  money  had  been  left  her,  and  now  she 
had  come  back  to  open  a  sailor's  inn. 

This  she  managed  so  well  that  merchants 
and  skippers  got  into  the  habit  of  coming  to 
her  to  hire  hands,  sailors  to  seek  employment. 
She  never  charged  a  penny  commission,  but  des- 
potically wielded  the  power  this  agency  gave 
her.  Although  she  was  but  a  woman,  and 
never  left  her  house,  she  was  most  emphati- 
cally, "  the  influential  man  "  of  the  town.  She 
was  called  "  fisher  Gunlaug,"  or  "  Gunlaug  on 
the  hill-side;"  her  title  of  "fisher  maiden  "  was 
transferred  to  her  daughter,  who  went  ranging 
about  the  town  at  the  head  of  an  army  of  small 
boys. 

It  is  the  daughter's  story  which  is  here  to 
be  told.     She  had  something  of  her  mother's 
strength  of  character,  and  she  found  opportu 
nity  to  use  it. 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  many  lovely  gardens  of  the  town,  no\f 
in  their  second  and  third  bloom,  were  fragrant 
after  rain.  The  sun  was  setting  behind  the 
mountains  of  eternal  snow  ;  the  whole  sky 
above  them  was  in  a  blaze  of  glory,  and  the 
snow  peaks  gave  back  a  subdued  reflection. 
The  nearer  mountains  lay  wrapped  in  shadows, 
but  they  were  nevertheless  radiant  with  theii 
many-hued  autumnal  forests.  The  rocky  isl- 
ands which  formed  a  long  line  in  the  midst  of 
the  fjord,  as  if  they  came  rowing  into  the  har- 
bor, revealed  still  more  gorgeous  coloring  in 
their  dense  woods  than  did  the  mountains,  be- 
cause they  could  more  distinctly  be  seen.  The 
sea  was  calm ;  a  large  ship  was  just  being  towed 
in.  The  inhabitants  of  the  town  sat  out  on  the 
steps  of  their  porches,  that  were  well  sheltered 
by  the  rose-bushes  on  eitlier  side;  they  were 
talking  across  from  porch  to  porch,  running 
over  to  visit  one  another,  or  exchanging  greet- 
ings with  the  passers-by,  who  were  on  their 
way  to   the  long  avenues  outside   the  town 


22  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

Save  the  occasional  tones  of  a  piano,  floating 
through  some  open  window,  scarcely  a  sound 
broke  in  upon  the  conversation  ;  the  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  as  they  lingered  on  the  sea, 
increased  the  sense  of  perfect  peace. 

Then  suddenly  there  arose  as  great  a  tumult 
in  the  heart  of  the  town,  as  if  a  battery  had  been 
opened  there.  Boys  shouted,  girls  screamed, 
other  boys  hurrahed,  old  women  scolded  and 
commanded,  the  policeman's  big  dog  barked, 
and  every  cur  in  town  bayed  in  return.  Peo- 
ple inside  were  forced  to  come  pouring  out  in 
the  street.  So  tremendous  became  the  noise 
that  even  the  amtmand^  had  to  turn  on  his 
porch  and  drop  the  words,  "  Something  must 
be  the  matter." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  was  asked  in  excited  tones  of 
those  on  the  steps  by  people  rushing  in  from 
the  avenues.  "  Ay,  what  is  it?  "  replied  those 
on  the  steps.  "  Dear  me  I  what  can  be  the 
matter?"  all  now  inquired  when  any  one  ap- 
peared from  the  centre  of  the  town.  But  as 
this  town  lies  like  a  half-moon  about  a  gently 
winding  bay,  it  was  quite  a  long  time  before 
the  reply  could  reach  both  ends  of  the  street. 
**  It  is  only  the  fisher  maiden." 

This  adventurous  spirit,  screened  by  a  for. 

I  The  magi8triit«. 


THE   FISHKB   MAIDEN.  28 

midable  mother^  and  sure  of  the  protection  of 
every  seaman  (for  an  extra  dram  was  to  be  had 
gratis  of  the  mother  for  such  service),  at  the 
head  of  her  small  army  had  made  an  assault  on 
a  large  apple-tree  in  Pedro  Ohlsen's  orchard. 
The  plan  of  attack  was  as  follows :  some  of  the 
small  boys  were  to  attract  Pedro  to  the  front  of 
his  house  by  slapping  the  rose-bushes  against 
the  window-panes ;  meanwhile,  one  was  to 
shake  the  tree,  which  stood  in  the  centre  of  the 
garden,  and  the  rest  were  to  fling  apples  in  all 
directions  over  the  fence  —  not  to  steal  them, 
far  from  it !  merely  to  have  some  fun. 

This  ingenious  plan  had  been  hfitched  that 
same  evening  in  the  rear  of  Pedro's  garden  ; 
but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  Pedro  was  seated 
just  inside  the  fence,  £md  heard  every  word. 
Somewhat  before  the  appointed  time  he  man< 
aged  to  get  the  intoxicated  policeman  of  the 
town  and  his  large  dog  into  his  back  room, 
where  they  were  both  treated.  When  the 
fisher  maiden's  curly  pate  was  seen  above  the 
paling,  and  at  the  same  time  a  multitude  of  lit* 
tie  eager  faces  were  peeping  through  on  every 
side,  Pedro  suffered  the  small  rogues  to  shake 
the  rose-bushes  in  the  front  of  the  house  with 
all  their  might  —  he  calmly  waited  in  the  back 
room.     And  when  the  whole  troop  had  noise* 


24  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

lessly  gathered  about  the  tree  in  the  garden, 
just  as  the  fisher  maiden,  barefoot  and  tattered, 
had  climbed  up  to  give  it  a  shaking,  the  back 
door  burst  open,  and  Pedro  and  the  policeman 
rushed  out,  armed  with  clubs,  and  with  the 
great  dog  at  their  heels.  A  shriek  of  dismay 
arose  among  the  boys  ;  a  troop  of  little  girls, 
who  in  all  innocence  were  playing  "  tag  "  out- 
side the  fence,  supposing  some  one  was  being 
murdered  in  the  garden,  fell  to  screaming  most 
lustily.  The  boys  who  had  escaped,  hurrahed  ; 
those  who  had  been  caught  in  the  fence  howled 
under  the  strokes  of  the  clubs,  and  in  order 
that  the  whole  might  be  complete,  a  number  of 
old  women,  who  always  spring  up  where  the 
shrieks  of  boys  are  heard,  blended  their  shrill 
voices  with  the  rest.  Even  Pedro  and  the  po- 
liceman were  alarmed,  and  began  to  make 
terms  with  the  old  women;  but,  meanwhile, 
the  boys  ran  away.  The  dog,  who  had  been 
the  greatest  terror  of  all  to  the  boys,  clearing 
the  fence,  set  out  in  pursuit  of  them,  —  for  this 
was  sport  for  him.  On  they  sped  through  the 
town  like  wild  ducks  :  boys,  girls,  the  dog,  and 
screams. 

All  the  while  the  fisher  maiden  sat  quietly 
up  the  tree,  thinking  that  nobody  had  noticed 
her.     Cowering   in   the   topmost   branch,   she 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  26 

followed,  through  the  foliage,  the  progress  of 
the  contest.  But  when  the  policeman,  in  a  fit 
of  fury,  had  made  a  sally  on  the  old  crones  out- 
side, Pedro  Ohlsen,  left  alone  in  the  garden, 
walked  straight  under  the  tree,  looked  up,  and 
called  out :  — 

"  Come  down  this  moment,  you  wretch  I" 

There  was  heard  not  the  slightest  sound  from 
the  tree. 

"  Will  you  come  down,  I  say  ?  I  know  you 
are  up  there !  " 

The  most  profound  silence  ! 

"  I  will  go  into  the  house  for  my  gun  and 
shoot  up  at  you  ;  yes,  I  will  I " 

He  made  a  movement  to  go. 

"  Booh-hooh-hooh  I  "  come  from  the  tree. 

"  Oh,  you  may  bawl  as  much  as  you  please, 
for  I  am  going  to  put  a  whole  charge  of  shot 
into  you  up  there  ;  I  can  tell  you  I  *' 

"  Oh,  booh-hooh-hooh-hooh ! "  came  in  owl- 
like tones.     "  I  am  so  frightened." 

"  Oh,  the  deuce  you  are  I  You  are  the 
worst  mischief-maker  of  the  whole  lot ;  but  I 
have  you  now  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  dear,  good,  kind  man,  you  1  I  will 
never  do  so  any  more." 

And  with  this  she  aimed  a  rotten  apple  right 
at  his  nose,  and  a  ringing  peal  of  laughter  fol- 


26  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

lowed  it.  The  apple  was  mashed  over  his 
whole  face  ;  and  while  he  was  wiping  it  away, 
she  sprang  down  and  was  scaling  the  fence  be- 
fore he  could  reach  her.  She  would  have 
cleared  it  had  she  not  been  so  terrified  lest  he 
was  at  her  heels,  that  she  let  go  instead  of 
calmly  working  her  way  over.  When  he 
caught  hold  of  her  she  set  up  a  scream  ;  it  rang 
out  with  such  a  shrill,  wailing,  piercing  sound 
that  he  grew  alarmed,  and  loosed  his  grasp. 
At  her  signal  of  terror,  the  people  outside  the 
paling  uplifted  their  voices,  too ;  and  hearing 
this  she  at  once  gathered  courage. 

"  Let  me  go,  or  I  will  tell  my  mother  !  "  she 
threatened,  and  was  now  all  flash  and  fire. 

Then  he  recognized  her  face,  and  shrieked, 
"  Your  mother  ?     Who  is  your  mother  ?  " 

"  Gunlaug  on  the  hill-side,  fisher  Gunlaug," 
the  girl  repeated,  triumphantly,  for  she  saw  his 
dismay. 

Near-sighted  as  he  was,  he  had  never  noticed 
her  before  now  ;  he  was  the  only  one  in  town 
who  did  not  know  who  she  was  ;  he  did  not  so 
much  as  know  that  Gunlaug  was  in  the  place. 
Like  one  possessed  he  cried  out :  — 

"  What  is  your  name  ?  " 

"  Petra  I  "  the  girl  shouted,  still  louder  than 
before. 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  27 

"  Petra  I  "  shrieked  Pedro,  and  turning,  fled 
into  the  house  as  if  he  had  encountered  the 
Evil  One  himself. 

But  as  the  pallor  of  terror  and  that  of  the 
direst  wrath  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  each 
other,  Petra  supposed  he  had  rushed  in  after 
his  gun.  Fear  overpowered  her,  she  already 
felt  the  shot  in  her  back,  and  as  the  garden  gate 
was  just  then  broken  open  from  the  outside,  she 
bolted  through,  her  dark  hair  flowing  behind 
her  like  a  stream  of  terror,  her  eyes  flaming; 
the  dog,  whom  she  met  in  her  flight,  turned 
and  pursued  her,  barking,  and  then  she  bolted 
into  the  house,  stumbling  against,  her  mother 
who  was  just  coming  in  from  the  kitchen  with 
a  dish  of  soup  in  her  hand:  The  girl  fell  on 
the  dish,  the  soup  streamed  over  the  floor,  and 
a  "  the  deuce  take  it !  "  from  the  mother,  ac- 
companied the  fall.  But  as  Petra  lay  sprawl- 
ing there  in  the  soup,  she  bawled  :  — 

"  He  is  going  to  shoot  me,  mother,  to  shoot 
me. 

"  Who  is  going  to  shoot  you,  you  troll  ?  " 

"  He  —  Pedro  Ohlsen  I  We  were  taking  his 
apples !  "  —  she  never  dared  speak  anything 
but  truth. 

"  Of  whom  are  you  talking,  child  ?  " 

"  Of  Pedro  Ohlsen ;  he  is  after  me  with  a 
big  gun  ;  he  means  to  shoot  me  I" 


28  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

*'  Pedro  Ohlsen  I  "  exclaimed  the  mother  in  a 
burst  of  rage,  and  then  laughed,  and  looked 
taller  than  ever.  The  child  began  to  cry,  and 
would  have  run  away  ;  but  her  mother  rushed 
at  her,  her  white  teeth  glittering  like  those 
of  a  beast  of  prey,  clutched  her  shoulder  and 
raised  her  from  the  floor. 

"  Did  you  tell  him  who  you  were?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  I "  and  the  child  held  up 
her  hands  imploringly. 

At  this  the  mother  drew  herself  up  to  her 
full  height,  exclaiming,  — 

"  And  so  he  has  found  it  out  1  What  did  he 
Bay?" 

"  He  ran  in  after  his  gun ;  he  meant  to  shoot 
me. 

"jHe  shoot  you!''''  laughed  Gunlaug,  in  bitter 
scorn. 

Frightened  and  bespattered  with  soup,  the 
child  had  stolen  into  a  comer,  where  she  stood 
wiping  herself,  amid  her  tears,  when  her  mother 
again  approached  her. 

"  If  you  ever  go  to  him,"  said  she,  seizing 
her  daughter,  and  giving  her  a  shaking,  "  or 
speak  with  him,  or  listen  to  him,  God  have 
mercy  on  you  both  I  Tell  him  so  from  me  I ' 
she  repeated,  in  a  threatening  tone,  for  the 
child  did  not  answer  at  once. 


THE   FISHUB  MAIDEN.  29 

**  Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes  !  " 

"  Tell  him  so  from  me  I  "  she  once  more  re- 
peated, but  softly  now,  and  nodding  her  head 
with  each  word,  she  walked  ofiE. 

The  child  washed  herself,  changed  her  clothes, 
and  in  Sunday  attire  sat  down  on  tlie  steps  out- 
side. But  remembering  the  alarm  she  had  just 
been  in,  she  sobbed  until  the  tears  began  to 
flow  again. 

"  Why  do  you  cry,  my  child  ?  '*  asked  a 
voice  in  more  kindly  tones  than  she  had  ever 
heard  from  any  one. 

She  looked  up:  before  her  stood  a  man  of 
graceful  build,  with  a  noble  countenance,  and 
wearing  spectacles.  She  rose  at  once  ;  for  this 
was  Hans  Odegaard,  a  young  man,  in  whose 
presence  the  whole  town  stood  up. 

"  Why  do  you  cry,  my  child  ?  " 

Looking  up  into  his  face,  she  told  him  that 
she  and  "  some  other  boys  "  had  meant  to  take 
apples  from  Pedro  Ohlsen's  garden,  but  Pedro 
and  the  policeman  had  been  after  them,  and 
then,  on  remembering  that  her  mother  had 
shaken  her  faith  on  the  score  of  the  shooting, 
she  dared  not  speak  of  it,  but  drew  a  long  sigh 
instead. 

"  Is  it  possible,"  said  he,  "  that  a  child  of 
your  age  can  take  part  in  so  great  a  sin  ?  " 


80  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

Petra  stared  at  him;  she  had  known  verj 
well  that  she  had  been  doing  wrong ;  but  she 
was  accustomed  to  having  this  indicated  to  her 
in  the  following  manner :  "  Yon  imp  of  dark- 
ness !  You  black  woolly  Satan  I "  Now  she 
felt  mortified. 

"  What  a  shame  that  you  do  not  go  to  school 
and  learn  God's  commandments  about  good  and 
evil  I  " 

She  stood  stroking  her  frock,  and  replied  that 
her  mother  did  not  wish  to  have  her  go  to 
school. 

"You  cannot  even  read,  I  suppose.'* 

Yes,  of  course  she  could  read. 

He  produced  a  small  book  and  handed  it  to 
her.  She  glanced  into  it,  then  turned  it  round, 
and  looked  at  the  cover. 

"  I  cannot  read  such  fine  print,"  said  she. 

But  he  insisted  on  her  trying,  and  all  at  once 
she  became  surprisingly  stupid  ;  her  eyes  and 
her  lips  drooped,  all  her  limbs  became  relaxed. 

"  G-o-d,  God,  t-h  —  God  the  L-o-r—  God,  the 
Lord,  8-a — God,  the  Lord,  said  to  M-M-"  — 

"  Bless  me  I  you  cannot  read  yet  I  And  you 
are  a  child  of  from  ten  to  twelve  years  old. 
Would  you  not  like  to  learn  to  read  ?  " 

She  managed  to  drag  out  that  she  would 
very  much  like  to  do  so. 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  81 

"  Then  come  with  me  ;  we  must  set  to  work 
forthwith." 

She  moved,  but  merely  to  look  into  the 
house. 

"  Yes,  tell  your  mother,"  said  he. 

The  mother  was  just  passing,  and,  seeing  her 
child  speak  with  a  stranger,  she  came  out  on 
the  flag-stone. 

"He  wants  to  teach  me  to  read,"  said  the 
child,  doubtfully,  fixing  her  eyes  on  her  mother. 

Gunlaug  made  no  reply,  but,  with  arms 
akimbo,  stood  looking  at  Odegaard. 

"Your  daughter  is  an  ignorant  child,"  said 
ho,  "  you  cannot  justify  yourself  before  either 
God  or  man  if  you  let  her  grow  up  in  this 
way." 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  asked  Gunlaug,  sharply. 

"  Hans  Odegaard,  your  priest's  son." 

Her  face  cleared  a  little;  she  had  heard 
much  good  of  him. 

"  From  time  to  time  when  I  have  been  at 
home,  I  have  noticed  this  child,"  he  began 
once  more.  "  To-day  I  have  had  my  attention 
called  to  her  afresh.  She  must  no  longer  busy 
herself  only  with  what  is  evil  " 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  "  the  mother's  face 
plainly  expressed. 

He  calmly  asked,  however :  "  You  surely  ex- 
pect her  to  learn  something  ?  " 


92  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

"No." 

A  faint  flush  overspread  his  face. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

"  Are  people  any  better,  do  you  think,  for 
having  learning  ?  " 

She  had  had  but  one  experience, — to  that 
she  held  fast. 

"  It  astonishes  me  that  any  person  can  ask 
such  a  question." 

"  No,  indeed  ;  I  know  they  are  no  better  for 
it,"  and  with  this  she  started  down  the  steps  to 
put  an  end  to  this  nonsense.  But  he  stepped 
in  her  way. 

"  Here  is  a  duty  which  you  must  not  shirk,'* 
said  he.     "  You  are  an  unwise  mother." 

Gunlaug  measured  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Who  told  you  what  I  am,"  said  she,  and 
swept  past  him. 

"  You  yourself  this  very  moment ;  for  had 
you  been  otherwise  you  must  have  seen  that 
this  child  will  go  to  ruin  unless  something  be 
done." 

Gunlaug  turned ;  her  eye  met  his  ;  she  saw 
that  he  really  meant  what  he  said,  and  it 
frightened  her.  Hitherto  she  had  only  had 
sea-faring  men  and  trades-people  to  deal  with  ; 
such  language  as  this  was  new  to  her. 

■'  What  do  you  want  with  the  child  ?  "  she 
asked. 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  88 

*'  To  teach  her  what  is  needful  for  her  8oul*s 
salvation ;  aiid  then  find  oat  what  she  is  des- 
tined to  be." 

"  My  child  shall  be  nothing  but  what  I 
choose." 

*'Yes,  indeed,  she  shall ;  she  shall  be  what 
God  chooses." 

Gunlaug  stood  mute. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  said  sh& 
drawing  nearer. 

"  I  mean  she  must  cultivate  the  faculties  she 
is  endowed  with ;  it  is  for  this  purpose  God 
has  given  them  to  her." 

Now  Gunlaug  came  close  up  to  him  :  "  Am 
not  I,  her  mother,  to  have  authority  over  her  ?  " 
she  inquired,  as  if  truly  desirous  of  learning. 

"  You  are  ;  but  you  must  heed  the  counsel 
of  others  who  know  better  than  yourself ;  you 
must  consider  the  will  of  God." 

Gunlaug  stood  silent  for  a  moment.  "But 
if  she  learns  too  much  I "  said  she.  "  The 
child  of  poor  people,"  she  added,  glancing  ten- 
derly at  her  daughter. 

"  If  she  learns  too  much  for  her  station,  she 
has  in  so  doing  attained  a  higher  one,"  he  re- 
plied. 

She  at  once  caught  the  meaning  of  his 
words  ;  but  she  said,  as  though  thinking  aloud, 
s 


54  THE  nSHEB  MAIDEN. 

her  gaze  resting  more  and  more  sadly  on  the 
child  the  while :  — 

"  That  is  dangerous." 

"That  is  not  the  point,"  said  he,  mildly. 
*'  The  question  is,  what  is  right." 

"  Into  her  vigorous  eye  there  came  a  strange 
expression :  she  gave  him  another  penetrating 
look;  but  there  was  so  much  sincerity  in  his 
voice,  his  words,  and  his  face  that  Gunlaug  felt 
herself  defeated.  She  walked  up  to  her  child, 
laid  her  hands  on  her  head,  but  could  not 
speak. 

"  I  will  teach  her  from  this  day  forth  until 
she  is  confirmed,"  said  he,  wishing  to  aid  her ; 
"  I  mean  to  interest  myself  in  this  child." 

"  And  then  you  will  take  her  away  from 
me?" 

He  hesitated  and  looked  inquiringly  at  her. 

"  Of  course,  you  are  far  wiser  than  I ;  yet  if 
you  had  not  spoken  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  "  — 
She  paused.  She  had  been  smoothing  down 
her  daughter's  hair  ;  now  she  took  the  kerchief 
from  her  own  neck  and  fastened  it  around  Pe- 
tra.  This  was  the  only  sign  she  gave  of  her 
consent  that  the  child  should  go  with  the 
young  man  ;  but  she  hastened  behind  the  house 
as  though  she  could  not  bear  to  see  her  go. 

This  behavior  filled  Hans  Odegaard  with  a 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  86 

sadden  alarm  at  what,  in  his  youthful  zeal,  he 
had  taken  upon  himself.  The  girl,  on  her 
part,  was  inspired  with  awe  for  the  first  person 
who  had  ever  conquered  her  mother ;  and  with 
this  mutual  fear  these  two  set  forth  to  begin 
the  lessons. 

From  day  to  day  it  seemed  to  the  young 
teacher  that  his  pupil  grew  in  intelligence  and 
knowledge,  and  his  conversations  with  her 
often  took  a  peculiar  direction.  He  would 
bring  forward  characters  from  the  Bible  and 
from  secular  history  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
point  out  the  call  given  them  by  God.  He 
would  dwell  on  Saul,  who  roved  wildly  about ; 
on  David,  the  shepherd  lad,  who  tended  hia 
father's  flocks  until  Samuel  came  and  laid  his 
hands  on  liira  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Pligli- 
est  of  all,  though,  was  the  call  when  the  Lord 
Himself  walked  upon  earth  and  extended  it  to 
fishermen.  The  poor  fishermen  rose  and  fol- 
lowed Him  —  to  poverty  and  to  death,  but 
always  joyfully,  for  the  feeling  that  we  are 
called  supports  us  under  every  adversity. 

This  idea  so  pursued  Petia  that  at  last  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  she  asked  him 
about  her  own  calling.  He  gazed  at  her  until 
she  grew  crimson,  then  replied,  that  through 
work  we  find  our  vocation ;  it  may  be  modest 
and  humble,  but  it  exists  for  all. 


86  THE  FISHER   klAIDEN. 

Now  a  great  zeal  took  possession  of  her;  i*" 
gave  the  impulse  of  mature  energy  to  her  work 
its  intensity  entered  into  her  play,  and  it  made 
her  grow  pale  and  thin.  Romantic  longings 
filled  her  mind :  to  cut  her  hair  short,  dress 
herself  as  a  boy,  sally  forth  into  the  world  and 
enter  into  its  struggles  1  But  when  her  teacher 
one  day  told  her  how  pretty  her  hair  was  if  she 
would  but  keep  it  in  order,  she  became  fond  of 
her  long  hair,  and  for  its  sake  was  ready  to  sac- 
rifice heroic  fame. 

After  this  it  was  more  to  her  than  ever  be- 
fore to  be  a  girl,  and  her  work  progressed  more 
calmly,  while  fitful  dreams  hovered  over  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Hans  Odeoaabd's  father  had  as  a  youth 
wandered  out  from  the  parish  of  OdegEiard,  in 
the  diocese  of  Bergen.  People  had  interested 
themselves  in  him,  and  he  was  now  a  learned 
man  and  a  stern  preacher.  He  was,  moreover, 
an  authoritative  person,  not  so  much  in  speech 
as  in  action;  for  he  "remembered  well,"  as 
people  said.  This  man  who  was  so  resolute  in 
the  execution  of  all  his  plans,  was  ^baffled  in  a 
quarter  where  he  least  expected  it,  and  where 
it  gave  him  the  most  pain. 

He  had  three  daughters  and  one  son.  The 
son,  Hans,  was  the  light  of  the  school ;  the  fa- 
ther himself  prepared  him  for  his  studies  and 
took  daily  delight  therein.  Hans  had  a  friend 
whom  he  helped  to  win  the  place  next  to  him 
in  the  school,  and  who  therefore  loved  him  be- 
yond all  else  on  earth  save  his  own  mother. 
They  were  comrades  at  school,  and  went  to- 
gether to  the  university ;  together  they  passed 
the  first  two  examinations,  and  were  to  enter 
together  on   the  preparation   for  their  future 


38  THE   FISHER  MAU)£K. 

profession.  One  day  when,  after  pursuing  their 
appointed  studies,  they  were  coming  merrily 
down  the  stairs,  Hans,  in  a  burst  of  good  hu- 
mor and  glee,  leaped  on  his  comrade's  back, 
but  in  so  doing  the  latter  fell,  and  death  fol- 
lowed the  fall  a  few  days  later.  With  his 
dying  breath  he  begged  his  mother,  who  was  a 
widow  and  with  him  was  losing  her  only  child, 
to  take  Hans,  for  love  of  him,  as  a  son  in  his 
stead.  The  mother,  however,  died  almost  si- 
multaneously with  her  son,  but  in  accordance 
with  her  will  the  very  considerable  fortune  she 
left  fell  to  Hans. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  Hans  recovered 
from  this  shock.  An  extended  journey  abroad 
so  far  roused  him  as  to  enable  him  to  resume 
his  theological  studies  and  carry  them  through ; 
but  he  could  not  be  persuaded  to  make  any  use 
of  his  degree. 

His  father's  one  hope  had  been  to  see  him 
established  as  his  assistant  in  the  parish,  but 
now  he  could  not  be  prevailed  on  to  enter  the 
pulpit  even  once.  He  always  made  the  same 
reply:  he  felt  no  call.  This  was  so  bitter  a 
disappointment  to  the  father  that  it  added  many 
years  to  his  age.  He  had  started  late  in  life, 
w&B  already  an  old  man,  and  had  labored  hard, 
always  with  this  goal  in  view.     The  son  no\f 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  89 

liyed  at  ease  in  his  handsome  rooms  in  the  up- 
per story  of  the  house ;  while  beneath,  in  the 
small  study,  beside  the  lamp  that  shone  on  the 
night  of  his  old  age,  sat  the  old  priest,  ever  at 
work.  After  the  disappointment  he  had  under- 
gone, he  neither  could  nor  would  take  a  stranger 
to  help  him,  neither  would  he  follow  his  son's 
advice  and  resign  his  charge ;  therefore  he  knew 
no  rest,  summer  or  winter,  while  his  son  each 
year  took  a  longer  journey  abroad.  When  at 
home  he  associated  with  no  one,  except  that  he 
dined  at  his  father's  table  in  more  or  less  si- 
lence ;  but  if  any  one  spoke  to  him  he  responded 
with  such  superior  soundness  of  judgment  and 
zeal  for  the  truth  that  the  conversation  was  apt 
to  become  embarrassing.  He  never  went  to 
ohnrch  ;  but  he  gave  more  than  half  his  income 
to  benevolent  purposes,  and  always  with  the 
most  definite  instructions  as  to  its  use. 

This  munificent  generosity  was  so  at  variance 
with  the  less  liberal  habits  of  the  small  town 
that  it  overwhelmed  every  one.  When  we  add 
to  this  young  Odegaard's  reserve,  his  frequent 
foreign  journeys,  and  the  shyness  all  felt  in  ad- 
dressing him,  it  can  readily  be  understood  that 
he  seemed  a  mysterious  being  to  whom  was  as- 
cribed all  possible  gifts  as  well  as  his  superior 
\udgment.     When  this  man  condescended  to 


10  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

make  the  fisher  maiden  the  object  of  his  daily 
care,  she  became  ennobled  in  the  eyes  of  all. 

Now  others,  too,  wanted  to  take  her  under 
their  patronage,  especially  ladies.  One  day 
Petra  came  to  her  teacher,  clad  in  all  the  hues 
of  the  rainbow:  she  had  donned  all  her  gifts 
and  thought  she  would  now  surely  be  to  his 
taste,  as  he  always  wished  her  to  look  neat. 
But  scarcely  had  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
than  he  forbade  her  ever  to  accept  any  pres- 
ents ;  he  called  her  vain  and  silly ;  told  her 
she  aimed  only  at  worthless  goals,  and  took 
pleasure  alone  in  folly.  When  she  came  to  him 
the  next  morning,  her  eyes  red  with  weeping, 
he  took  her  with  him  for  a  walk  out  of  town. 
As  they  went  he  told  her  about  David,  as  it 
was  his  wont  to  take  up  now  this,  now  that 
historical  character,  and  to  invest  familiar  top- 
ics with  new  interest.  First  he  depicted  David 
in  his  youth,  and  told  how  he  entered  on  life, 
beautiful  in  person,  rich  in  powers,  and  with 
unquestioning  faith.  Thus,  ere  he  was  a  man, 
he  shared  the  honors  of  a  triumphal  proces- 
sion. From  a  shepherd  he  was  called  to  be 
a  king :  he  had  dwelt  in  caves,  but  ended  in 
building  Jerusalem.  Clad  in  fair  attire,  he 
played  the  harp  to  soothe  the  stricken  Saul, 
but  when,  a  king  himself,  he  was  ill  and  clothed 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  41 

in  the  garments  of  remorse,  he  drew  music  from 
his  harp-strings  and  sang  to  soothe  himself. 
His  great  deeds  accomplished,  lie  sought  repose 
in  sin ;  then  came  the  prophet  and  punishment^ 
and  once  more  he  was  a  child.  David,  who  with 
his  songs  of  praise  could  lift  up  all  the  chosen 
people  of  the  Lord,  lay  crushed  himself  at  the 
Lord's  feet.  Was  he  most  to  be  admired  when, 
crowned  with  victory,  he  danced  before  the  ark 
to  his  own  songs,  or  when  in  his  closet  he  im- 
plored mercy  from  the  chastening  hand? 

Petra  had  a  dream  the  night  after  this  con- 
versation, which  through  her  whole  life  she 
never  foi^t.  She  thought  she  was.  riding  on  a 
white  horse  in  a  triumphal  procession,  but  at 
the  same  time  she  was  also  dancing  before  the 
horse  in  rags. 

One  evening,  some  time  later,  as  Petra  sat 
by  the  edge  of  the  wood,  conning  her  lesson, 
Pedro  Ohlsen  whom,  since  that  day  in  the  gar- 
den, she  had  seen  coming  nearer  and  nearer  to 
her,  walked  close  by  her  and,  with  a  strange 
smile,  whispered :  — 

"  Good  evening !  " 

Although  years  had  now  elapsed,  she  re- 
tained so  lively  a  recollection  of  her  mother's 
command  not  to  speak  to  him,  that  she  made 
no  reply.    Day  after  day,  however,  he  walked 


42  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

past  her  in  the  same  way,  and  always  with  the 
game  greeting ;  at  length  she  oame  to  look  for 
him  when  he  did  not  come.  Ere  long  he  fell 
to  asking  some  trifling  question  as  he  passed, 
soon  this  became  two,  and  finally  the  questions 
grew  into  conversations.  One  day,  after  one  of 
these,  he  slipped  a  silver  dollar  into  her  lap  and 
hastened  away,  overjoyed  at  what  he  had  done. 
Now  it  was  contrary  to  her  mother's  orders  to 
speak  with  him,  and  contrary  to  Odegaard's  to 
accept  gifts  from  any  one.  The  first  injunction 
she  had  gradually  disobeyed,  and  was  now  re- 
minded of  it  because  through  this  transgression 
she  had  been  led  to  disregard  the  second  also. 
In  order  to  get  rid  of  the  money  she  found  a 
person  who  helped  her  spend  it ;  but  in  spite  of 
every  effort  it  was  not  possible  for  them  to  eat 
more  than  four  marks,^  worth.  When  too  late 
she  was  filled  with  remorse  for  having  wasted 
the  dollar  instead  of  giving  it  back.  The  mark 
which  still  remained  in  her  pocket  scorched 
like  fire  and  seemed  as  if  it  must  bum  a  bole 
through  her  clothes;  she  took  it  and  flung  it 
into  the  sea.  Even  then  she  did  not  get  rid  of 
the  dollar.  Her  thoughts  were  branded  with  it. 
Confession  might  set  her  free,  she  thought ;  but 
her  mother's  appalling  wrath  at  the  time  of  her 

1  Fire  uurks  make  a  dollar. 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  48 

iast  effort,  anil  Odegaard's  heartfelt,  traating 
goodness,  were  equally  calculated  to  frighten 
her  from  it.  While  her  mother  observed  noth- 
ing, Odegaard  soon  discovered  that  she  was 
wrestling  with  something  that  made  her  un- 
happy. In  all  tenderness,  he  inquired  one  day 
what  it  was,  and  when  in  reply  she  burst  into 
tears,  he  took  it  for  granted  there  must  be  want 
at  home,  and  gave  her  ten  dollars.  Now  it  made 
a  deep  impression  on  her  that  notwithstanding 
her  fault  against  him,  she  had  received  money 
from  him,  and  having  besides  received  money 
which  she  could  openly  give  to  her  mother, 
honest  money,  she  felt  as  though  palrdoned  from 
her  guilt,  and  yielded  to  the  most  excessive 
joy.  She  took  his  hand  in  both  of  hers,  she 
thanked  him,  she  laughed,  she  jumped  up  and 
down  on  the  spot  where  she  stood,  ecstasy 
beamed  through  her  tears,  while  she  fixed  her 
eyes  on  him  with  mach  the  same  look  that  a 
dog  bestows  on  the  master  whom  he  is  about 
to  accompany  on  a  walk.  He  knew  her  no 
longer.  She  who  had  always  sat  lost  in  his 
words,  wielded  the  power  herself  now.  For 
the  first  time  he  felt  a  strong,  wild  nature  un- 
folding itself  before  him,  for  the  first  time  he 
felt  the  well-«pring  of  life  gushing  up  within 
him  and  flooding  him  with  its  roseate  stream, 


44  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

and  he  started  back,  his  face  flaming,  but  she 
dashed  out  of  the  house  and  sped  up  the  hilla 
to  take  the  road  from  the  town  home.  There 
she  laid  the  money  on  the  bread  griddle  before 
her  mother,  and  fell  on  her  neck. 

"Who  gave  you  the  money?"  asked  the 
mother,  her  anger  already  rising. 

"  It  was  Odegaard,  mother ;  he  is  the  grand- 
est man  in  the  world." 

«  What  am  I  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  do  not  know ;  but,  oh,  mother, 
if  you  only  knew  "  — 

She  threw  herself  on  her  mother's  neck  once 
more.  Now  she  was  not  afraid ;  now  she  would 
confess  all.  But  her  mother  shook  her  off  im- 
patiently. 

"  Would  you  have  me  accept  alms  ?  Take 
the  money  back  to  him  at  once  I  If  you  have 
made  him  believe  I  need  help,  you  have  lied." 

«  But,  mother  "  — 

"  Take  the  money  back  to  him  this  instant, 
I  say,  or  I  will  go  to  him  myself  and  fling  it  at 
nim,  at  him  who  has  taken  my  child  from  me  I " 

The  mother's  lips  quivered  after  the  last 
word.  Petra  drew  back,  growing  paler  and 
paler,  softly  opened  the  door  and  noiselessly 
left  the  house.  Before  she  was  aware  of  it  the 
ten  dollar  note  was  torn  to  fragments  in  her 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  45 

fingers.  The  discovery  of  this  led  to  an  out- 
burst of  wrath  against  her  mother.  Odegaard 
must  know  nothing  of  this,  though,  —  but,  yes, 
he  should  know  everything.  There  should  be 
no  concealments  from  him  ! 

A  moment  later  she  was  in  his  home  telling 
him  that  her  mother  had  refused  to  accept  the 
money,  and  that  she  in  her  anger  at  being  com- 
pelled to  bring  it  back  to  him  had  torn  the 
note  to  pieces.  She  would  have  said  more,  but 
he  received  her  coldly  and  bade  her  go  home 
again,  admonishing  her  to  be  obedient  to  her 
mother,  even  where  it  was  hard  to  be  so.  This 
seemed  very  strange  to  her ;  for  this  much  she 
knew,  that  he  did  not  do  what  his  father  wished 
beyond  all  else  I  On  the  way  home  she  brokt 
down  entirely,  and  just  at  that  moment  she  met 
Pedro  Ohlsen.  She  had  shunned  him  all  this 
time,  and  was  about  to  do  the  same  now,  for  he 
was  the  cause  of  her  bad  luck. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?  "  asked  he,  joining 
her.     "  Has  anything  gone  wrong  with  you  ?  " 

The  surging  billows  within  her  breast  had 
risen  so  high  that  they  might  toss  her  whither 
they  would,  and  as  she  thought  of  the  matter, 
she  could  not  understand  why  her  mother 
Bhould  forbid  her  to  have  any  intercourse  with 
this  man,  of  all  others.  It  was  doubtless  a 
mere  whim,  now  as  well  as  before. 


46  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  have  done  ?  "  said  he^ 
almost  humbly,  as  she  paused.  "  I  have  bought 
a  sail-boat  for  you ;  I  thought  you  might  have 
a  fancy  for  sailing,"  and  he  laughed. 

His  kindness,  which  savored  somewhat  of  the 
prayer  of  the  needy,  was  especially  calculated 
to  touch  her  just  now ;  she  nodded,  —  and  then 
he  grew  agitated,  and  eagerly  whispered  to  her 
to  go  round  the  outskirts  of  the  town  and  fol- 
low the  avenue  to  the  right  straight  to  the 
large,  yellow  boat-house ;  he  would  meet  her 
behind  it  and  no  one  could  see  them  there. 
She  started  off,  and  he  came  after  her,  joyful, 
yet  deferential  as  an  aged  child,  and  led  her  to 
the  boat.  They  sailed  about  for  a  time  in  the 
gentle  breeze,  then  laying  to  alongside  a  rocky 
island,  they  made  the  boat  fast  and  clambered 
ashore.  He  had  with  him  all  sorts  of  dainties 
for  her,  which  he  gave  her  with  a  timorous  joy, 
and  he  brought  forth  his  flute  and  played  for 
her.  The  sight  of  his  happiness  made  her  for 
a  time  forget  her  own  trouble,  and  as  there 
crept  over  her  the  melancholy  always  excited 
by  the  pleasure  of  weak  people,  she  also  found 
herself  growing  fond  of  him. 

Prom  that  day  forth  she  had  a  new  and  per 
petual  secret  from  her  mother,  and  this  soon 
led  her  into  keeping  her  outside  of  everything 


THE  FISHEB   MAIDEN.  47 

Gunlaug  asked  no  questions ;  she  wholly  trusted 
unless  her  confidence  were  once  utterly  shaken. 

But  from  Odegaard  also  Petra  had  conceal- 
ments from  that  day;  for  she  received  many 
presents  from  Pedro  Ohlsen.  Yet  Odegaard 
did  not  question  her  either,  but  day  by  day  his 
instructions  became  more  formal.  Thus  Petra 
was  shared  by  three  people  ;  with  none  of  them 
could  she  speak  of  the  others  and  she  had  some- 
thing to  hide  from  each. 

In  the  mean  while  she  had  grown  up,  without 
being  herself  aware  of  it,  and  one  day  Odegaard 
informed  her  that  she  must  be  confirmed. 

This  announcement  filled  her  with  great  dis- 
quietude ;  for  she  knew  that  with  confirmation 
her  instructions  would  end,  and  what  would  be- 
come of  her  then?  Her  mother  was  having 
an  attic  built  to  her  house ;  after  confirmation 
Petra  was  to  have  a  room  of  her  own ;  the  in- 
cessant hammering  and  pounding  were  painful 
reminders  to  her.  Odegaard  saw  her  grow  more 
and  more  silent,  occasionally  he  saw  also  that 
she  had  been  weeping.  Under  such  circum- 
stances the  preparation  for  confirmation  made 
a  deep  impression  on  her,  although  Odegaard, 
with  tender  solicitude,  avoided  everything  cal- 
culated to  rouse  her  emotions.  For  this  reason 
he  concluded  his  instructions  about  a  fortnight 


48  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

before  the  time  appointed  for  confirmation,  by 
briefly  informing  her  that  this  would  be  the  last 
lesson.  By  this  he  meant  the  last  with  Mm; 
for  he  certainly  intended  to  care  further  for  her, 
but  through  others.  She  remained,  however, 
motionless  in  her  seat.  The  color  forsook  her 
face,  she  could  not  take  her  eyes  from  him,  and 
involuntarily  touched,  he  hastened  to  give  a 
reason. 

'*  To  be  sure,  all  young  girls  are  not  grown 
up  when  they  are  confirmed;  but  you  surely 
feel  that  such  is  the  case  with  you." 

Had  she  been  standing  in  the  glow  of  a  great 
fire  she  could  not  have  become  rosier  than  she 
did  at  these  words ;  her  bosom  heaved,  her  eyes 
grew  restless  and  filled  with  tears,  and  driven 
to  extremity  he  hastened  to  say :  — 

"  Would  you,  after  all,  rather  continue  ?  " 

Only  when  it  was  too  late  did  he  realize 
what  he  had  proposed ;  it  was  wrong ;  he  would 
take  it  back ;  but  she  was  already  raising  her 
eyes  to  his  face,  she  was  not  saying  "  yes"  with 
her  lips,  and  yet  more  forcibly  she  could  not 
have  expressed  it.  To  excuse  what  he  had 
done  to  himself  by  seeking  a  pretext,  he  asked ; 

"I  presume  there  is  something  you  espe- 
cially wish  to  turn  your  attention  to,  something 
you  "  —  he  bowed  low  over  her  —  "  feel  a  call 
for,  Petra?" 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  49 

"  No  I  "  she  answered,  so  abruptly  that  he 
flushed  crimson,  and  then,  cooling  off,  fell  back 
into  the  reflections  that,  for  years,  had  weighed 
on  him,  and  which  her  unexpected  reply  had 
roused  again. 

That  she  possessed  a  strong  individuality  he 
had  never  doubted  from  the  time  when  she  was 
a  child,  and  he  used  to  see  her  marching  about 
singing  at  the  head  of  the  town's  boy-compa- 
nies. But  the  longer  he  taught  her  the  less  he 
comprehended  the  nature  of  her  endowments 
Her  every  emotion  betokened  their  existence; 
all  that  she  thought,  all  that  she  desired,  was 
revealed  by  mind  and  body  at  once  with  ardent 
intensity,  and  over  all  were  sparkling  flashes  of 
beauty.  But  put  into  words,  and  especially 
into  writing,  it  became  mere  childishness.  Sho 
seemed  to  be  pure  fantasy ;  yet  he,  to  be  sure, 
ascribed  this  chiefly  to  restlessness.  She  was 
very  industrious,  but  her  studies  aimed  less  at 
learning  than  at  advancing ;  what  might  be  on 
the  next  page  was  most  prominent  in  her  mind. 
She  had  deep  religious  feeling,  but  as  the  priest 
expressed  himself,  "  no  foundation  for  a  relig- 
ious life,"  and  Odegaard  felt  troubled  about 
her.  He  stood  again  at  the  starting-point,  his 
thoughts  involuntarily  bearing  him  to  the  flag- 
stone where  he  had  assumed  the  charge  of  her, 
4 


60  THE  FISHER  MAmEN. 

and  he  heard  her  mother's  sharp  voice  laying 
the  responsibility  on  him  because  he  had  named 
the  Lord.  After  pacing  the  floor  several  times, 
he  regained  his  composure. 

"  I  am  going  abroad  now,"  said  he,  with  a 
certain  shyness ;  "  I  have  asked  my  sisters  to 
take  an  interest  in  you  during  my  absence,  and 
when  I  come  back  we  will  try  what  further  we 
can  do.  Farewell  I  We  shall  meet  again,  no 
doubt,  before  I  start." 

He  then  walked  so  hastily  into  the  next  room 
that  she  had  not  even  time  to  grasp  his  hand. 

She  saw  him  again,  where  she  had  least  ex- 
pected it,  and  that  was  in  the  pulpit,  near  the 
choir  just  in  front  of  her,  as  she  stood  among 
the  girls,  on  the  church  floor,  to  be  confirmed. 
She  was  so  excited  over  this  that  her  thoughts 
were  long  absent  from  the  sacred  rite  for  which 
she  had  prepared  with  humility  and  prayer. 
Yes,  even  Odegaard's  old  father  gazed  long  at 
his  son,  as  the  latter  came  forward  to  open  the 
service.  Soon  Petra  was  to  be  once  more  start- 
led in  church ;  for  who  should  she  see  sitting 
rather  farther  down  the  aisle,  in  stiff,  new 
clothes,  but  Pedro  Ohlsen  I  He  was  just  stretch- 
mg  his  neck  that  he  might  look  over  the  heads 
of  the  boys  at  the  group  of  girls  and  get  a 
glimpse  of  her.     He  drew  back  again  at  once, 


THE  FISHER   MAmEN.  51 

but  8he  saw  him  repeatedly  thrust  up  his  hea<l, 
with  its  sparse  covering  of  hair,  and  each  time 
promptly  withdraw  it.  This  called  ofE  her 
thoughts,  she  did  not  want  to  see,  and  yet  she 
saw,  and  there  —  just  as  all  the  others  were 
deeply  affected,  many  of  them  in  tears  —  Pe- 
tra  was  terrified  at  seeing  Pedro  rise  up,  eyes 
and  mouth  wide  open  and  rigid,  paralyzed  with 
fear,  and  powerless  to  sit  down  or  move  away ; 
for  opposite  him,  drawn  up  to  her  full  height, 
stood  Gunlaug.  Petra  shuddered  as  she  looked 
at  her,  for  she  was  as  white  as  the  altar-cloth. 
Her  curly  black  hair  seemed  to  bristle,  while 
her  eyes  suddenly  acquired  a  repellent  power, 
as  though  they  would  say :  "  Away  from  her ! 
what  would  you  with  her ! "  He  cowered  on 
the  bench  beneath  this  look,  and  a  moment 
later  stole  away  from  the  church. 

After  this  Petra  found  peace,  and  the  further 
the  service  progressed  the  more  thoroughly  did 
she  enter  into  it.  And  when  she  returned  from 
the  altar,  after  having  taken  her  vow,  and  gazed 
through  her  tears  at  Odegaard,  as  the  one  who 
was  nearest  all  her  good  purposes,  she  vowed 
in  her  heart  that  she  would  never  bring  his 
crust  in  her  to  shame.  Those  faithful  eyes, 
which  BO  beamingly  met  hers,  seemed  to  im- 
plore this  of  her ;  but  after  she  had  taken  her 


62  THE  nSHER  MAIDEN. 

place  and  would  once  more  have  sought  hia 
eyes,  he  was  gone.  She  soon  went  home  with 
her  mother,  who  on  the  way  let  fall  the 
words,  — 

"Now  I  have  done  my  part;  now  let  the 
Lord  do  his!" 

When  they  had  dined  together,  they  two 
alone,  the  mother  said  furthermore,  as  she 
rose :  — 

"  Well,  we  must  go  over,  I  suppose,  to  him, 
—  the  priest's  son.  I  do  not  know,  it  is  true, 
how  what  Jie  has  undertaken  is  going  to  turn 
out,  but  I  am  quite  sure  he  meant  well.  Put 
on  your  things  again,  child  I " 

The  road  to  church,  they  two  had  so  often 
trodden  together,  lay  above  the  town.  In  the 
street  they  had  never  before  been  seen  to- 
gether ;  the  mother,  indeed,  had  scarcely  been 
there  since  her  return  to  the  town.  Now  she 
turned  immediately  down  toward  the  street, 
she  would  pass  through  its  entire  length,  she 
wanted  to  walk  there  with  her  grown-up 
daughter. 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  confirmation  Sunday, 
m  a  little  town  like  this,  everybody  is  in  mo- 
tion, either  passing  from  house  to  house  with 
congratulations,  or  walking  up  and  down  the 
street  to  see  and  to  be  seen.     There  is  a  pause 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  68 

At  every  step,  greetings  are  interchanged,  hands 
shaken,  and  glad  tidings  delivered ;  the  poor 
man's  child  may  be  met  in  the  cast-off  gar- 
ments of  the  rich,  and  is  out  to  show  his  grati- 
tude. The  sea-faring  men  of  the  town  in  for- 
eign finery,  with  their  caps  lightly  perched  on 
their  heads,  and  the  fops  of  the  town,  the  store 
clerks,  with  a  bow  for  every  one,  walk  about 
in  groups ;  the  half-grown  boys  of  the  Latin 
school,  each  arm  in  arm  with  his  best  friend 
in  the  world,  lounge  after  them,  passing  their 
boyish  criticisms.  But  all  must  to-day,  in  the 
innermost  recesses  of  their  hearts,  give  way  be- 
fore the  lion  of  the  town,  the  young  merchant, 
the  richest  man  of  the  place,  Yngve  Void,  who 
had  but  just  returned  from  Spain,  all  ready  to 
take  charge,  on  the  morrow,  of  his  mother's 
extensive  fishing  trade.  With  a  light  hat  on 
his  fair  hair  he  flashed  through  the  streets,  so 
that  the  young  people  who  had  just  been  con- 
firmed were  almost  forgotten  ;  one  and  all  gave 
him  greetings  of  welcome ;  he  spoke  with  every 
one,  smiled  at  every  one ;  up  and  down  the 
street  his  light  hat  perched  on  his  fair  hair 
could  be  seen,  his  bright  laughter  heard.  When 
Petra  and  her  mother  came  out,  he  was  the 
first  person  they  stumbled  on ;  and  as  though 
they  had  really  stumbled  against  him,  he  drew 
back  from  Petra,  whom  he  did  not  recognize. 


64  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

She  had  giown  tall,  not  as  tall  as  her  mother, 
but  beyond  the  height  of   most  women,  lithe 
in  her  movements,  refined,  and  fearless  ;  she 
was  her  mother  and  not  her  mother  in  contin- 
ually changing  flashes.     Even  the  young  mer- 
chant, who  persisted  in  following  them,  could 
no  longer  attract  wholly  to  himself  the  eyes  of 
the  loungers  ;  these  two,  mother  and  daughter, 
presented  a   more  strange  appearance.     They 
walked  rapidly  along  with  greetings  for  none, 
because   they  were  seldom  saluted   by  others 
than  sailors  ;   but  they  came  back  still   more 
rapidly,  because  they  had  learned  that  Ode- 
gaard  had    just   started    from   home  for   the 
steamer  that  was  then  about  sailing.     Petra, 
in  especial,  was  in  great  haste ;  she  must,  she 
must,  have  a  chance   to  speak  with  him  and 
bear  him  her  greetings  and  thanks  before  he 
went  away  ;  it  was  very  wrong  of  him  to  leave 
her  thus.     She  saw  none  of  those  whose  eyes 
were  fixed  on  her  ;  she  saw  only  the  smoke  of 
the  steamer  curling  above  the  house-tops,  and 
.t  seemed  to  her  to  be  passing  away.     When 
fchey  reached  the  wharf,  the  steamer  was  just 
putting  off;   and  choked  with  tears  she  has- 
tened down  the  avenue.     As  it  had  taken  the 
steamer  some  time  to  turn  in  the  harbor,  she 
arrived   in   time  to   run  down    on  the  beach. 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  56 

mount  on  a  stone,  and  wave  her  handkerchief. 
Her  mother  was  left  in  the  avenue,  and  would 
not  go  down  ;  Petra  stood  waving  her  handker- 
chief ;  higher  and  higher  she  waved  it,  but  no 
one  waved  to  her  in  return. 

She  could  endure  no  more,  and  wept  so  vio- 
lently that  she  was  forced  to  take  the  upper 
road  home.  Her  mother  went  with  her,  but 
walked  by  her  side  in  silence.  The  loft  cham 
ber  her  mother  had  this  day  given  her,  where 
she  had  slept  for  the  first  time  last  night,  and 
where  this  morning  she  had  put  on  her  new 
clothes,  so  full  of  joy,  received  her  this  evening 
dissolved  in  tears  and  without  a  single  glance 
for  anything.  She  would  not  go  down  where 
the  sailors  and  guests  had  arrived ;  she  took  off 
her  confirmation  attire,  and  sat  down  on  her 
bed  until  night  came  on  apace,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  that  to  be  grown  up  was  the  most 
wretched  thing  that  could  happen. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Shoetly  after  the  confirmation  she  went 
one  day  to  see  Odegaard's  sisters,  but  soon  be- 
came conscious  that  Odegaard  had  made  a 
grave  mistake ;  for  the  priest  did  not  deign  to 
notice  her,  and  his  daughters,  both  older  than 
Odegaard,  were  cold  and  formal.  They  con- 
tented themselves  with  giving  her  brief  instruc- 
tions from  their  brother  as  to  how  she  was  now 
to  occupy  herself.  The  whole  forenoon,  it 
seemed,  she  was  to  take  part  in  the  domestic 
duties  of  a  house  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
and  in  the  afternoon  attend  sewing-school ;  she 
was  to  sleep  at  home  and  have  her  supper  and 
breakfast  there.  She  did  all  that  had  been 
planned  for  her  to  do,  and  took  pleasure  in  it 
as  long  as  it  was  a  novelty,  but  later,  and  es- 
pecially when  summer  came,  she  found  it  irk- 
some ;  for  during  that  season  she  had  been  in 
the  habit  of  sitting  in  the  forest  the  whole  day 
long,  and  there  she  had  read  her  books,  which 
she  now  missed  from  the  bottom  of  her  heart, 
as  she  missed  Odegaard  and  missed  companion- 


THE   FISHER   MAIDBN.  57 

flhip.     The  result  was  that  she  took  the  latter 
wherever  it  was  to  be  found. 

About  that  time,  for  instance,  there  came  a 
young  girl  to  the  sewing-school,  who  went  by 
the  name  of  Lise  Let ;  that  is  to  say,  her  name 
was  Lise,  but  not  Let,  for  Let  was  the  name 
of  a  young  midshipman  who  had  been  home  in 
the  Christmas  vacation,  and  had  become  en- 
gaged to  Lise  on  the  ice  when  she  was  a  mere 
Bchool-girl.  Lise  would  stake  her  life  that  this 
was  not  true,  and  the  tears  came  the  moment  it 
was  mentioned ;  nevertheless,  she  was  ever  after 
called  Lise  Let.  Fragile  little  Lise  Let  wept 
often  and  laughed  often ;  but  whether  she  wept 
or  laughed  her  thoughts  ran  on  love.  New, 
strange  thoughts,  swarming  like  bees,  soon 
filled  the  whole  sewing-school.  If  a  hand  was 
stretched  out  for  the  reel,  it  was  going  court- 
ing, and  the  reel  favored  or  rejected  the  suit ; 
the  needle  became  engaged  to  the  thread,  and 
the  thread  sacrificed  itself,  stitch  by  stitch,  for 
the  cruel  one  ;  if  a  girl  pricked  herself  she  was 
shedding  her  heart's  blood,  and  the  one  who 
changed  needles  was  faithless.  Did  two  girls 
whisper  together,  it  must  be  about  something 
remarkable  that  had  happened  to  them ;  soon 
two  more  would  fall  to  whispering,  then  two 
more ;  each  one  had  her  confidant,  and  there 


58  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

were  a  thousand  seorets.      It  was  more  than 
Petra  could  endure. 

One  afternoon,  about  dusk,  in  a  misty  rain^ 
Petra  was  standing,  with  a  large  kerchief  over 
her  head,  outside  of  her  home,  peering  into  the 
passage,  where  stood  a  young  sailor,  whistling 
a  waltz.  She  held  the  kerchief  with  both 
hands  tight  under  her  chin,  so  that  only  her 
eyes  and  nose  were  visible ;  but  the  sailor 
promptly  discovered  that  she  was  blinking  at 
him,  and  he  speedily  sprang  down  to  the  spot 
where  she  stood. 

"Listen,  Gunnar;  do  you  want  to  take  a 
walk?" 

"  Why,  it  is  raining." 

"Pshaw  I  what  if  it  is  I" 

And  so  they  went  to  a  small  house  farther 
up  the  mountain. 

"Go  in  and  buy  me  some  cakes,  the  kind 
with  whipped  cream  on  I  " 

"  You  are  always  wanting  cakes  !  " 

"  The  kind  with  whipped  cream  on  !  " 

He  brought  her  some.  Thrusting  out  one 
hand  from  under  her  kerchief,  she  took  them 
find  walked  on  eating.  When  they  had  made 
their  way  up  beyond  the  town,  she  said,  hand- 
ing him  a  piece  of  cake,  — 
,  "See  here,  Gunnar  I     We  have  always  been 


I  at.   lilhabK   MAIDEN.  69 

fond  of  each  other,  we  two ;  I  have  always 
cared  more  for  you  than  for  any  of  the  boys  1 
You  do  not  believe  it  ?  But  I  can  assure  you 
it  is  true,  Gunnar !  And  now  you  are  second 
mate,  and  you  may  soon  be  in  command  of  a 
ship.  Now,  it  seems  to  me,  you  ought  to  be 
engaged,  Gunnar.  —  Dear  me,  are  you  not  eat- 
ing the  cake  ?  " 

"  No,  I  have  commenced  chewing  tobacco." 
"  Well,  then,  what  have  you  to  say  to  this  ?" 
"  Oh,  yes  ;  but  there  is  no  hurry  about  it !  " 
"There   is   no  hurry  about  it?     Why,  you 
are  going  away  day  after  to-morrow." 

"  Yes,  but  I  will  come  back  again,  I  hope." 
"But  you  cannot  be  sure,  let  me  tell  you, 
whether  I  shall  be  at  your  disposal  then,  for 
you   do   not  know   where  I   may   be  by  that 
time." 

"  It  is  to  be  you  ;  is  it  ?  " 
"Yes,  Gunnar,    I   should   think   you  might 
have  known  that ;  but  you  have  always  been 
so  stupid,  that  is  why  you  had  to  be  a  sailor." 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  sorry  for  that ;  it  is  a  pretty 
good  thing  to  be  a  sailor." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure ;  your  mother  has  a  ship  of 
her  own.     But  what  answer  have  you  now  ? 
You  are  so  dull." 
"  Well,  what  answer  should  I  have  ?  " 


60  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

"  What  answer  should  yon  have  ?  Ha,  ha, 
ha,  perhaps  you  do  not  want  me  !  " 

"  Oh,  Petra,  you  know  very  well  I  want  you. 
But  I  do  not  believe  I  can  be  sure  of  you  I " 

"  Indeed,  Gunnar,  I  will  be  verj^  very  true 
to  you  I  " 

He  stood  still  a  moment. 

"  Let  me  look  you  in  the  face,  Petra  !  " 

"Why  so?" 

•'  I  want  to  see  whether  you  really  mean  it." 

*'  Do  you  think  I  would  trifle  with  you,  Gun- 
nar ?  " 

She  was  angry,  and  loosened  her  kerchief. 

"  Well,  Petra,  if  it  is  real  serious  earnest, 
then  give  me  a  kiss  on  it ;  for  it  is  plain  enough 
what  that  means." 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  "  She  closed  the  kerchief 
and  walked  on. 

"  Wait,  Petra,  wait  I  You  do  not  understand 
this.     If  we  are  sweethearts  "  — 

"  Oh,  how  absurd  you  are  I  " 

"  Why,  I  ought  to  know  what  is  customary, 
I  should  think,  for  so  far  as  worldly  experience 
is  concerned,  I  am  far  in  advance  of  you. 
Think  of  all  I  have  seen  "  — 

"  Yes,  you  have  seen  like  a  dunce,  and  yoD 
talk  just  as  you  have  seen." 

"  Come,  then,  what  do  you  think  it  means  to 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  61 

be  engaged  lovers,  Petra?  I  should  really  like 
to  know  that.  To  chase  each  other  up  the  hills 
does  not  amount  to  anything." 

"  No,  that  is  very  true."  She  laughed  and 
stood  still,  "But  now  listen,  Gunnarl  while 
we  stand  here  and  take  breath.  —  Ugh !  —  I 
am  going  to  tell  you  how  engaged  lovers  act. 
As  long  as  you  are  in  town,  you  must  wait  out- 
side the  sewing-school,  and  go  home  with  me 
all  the  way  to  the  door,  each  evening,  and  if 
I  am  out  anywhere  else  you  must  wait  in 
the  street  until  I  come.  When  you  go  away, 
though,  you  must  write  to  me,  and  buy  things  to 
send  to  me.  Ah,  that  is  true :  we  must  have 
a  couple  of  rings  with  your  name  in  one  and 
mine  in  the  other,  and  then  the  year  and  the 
day  of  the  month ;  but  as  I  have  no  money  you 
must  buy  them  both." 

"  That  I  will  with  pleasure,  but "  — 
"  What  are  you  after  with  your  hut  again  ?  " 
"  Good  gracious  I  I  only  meant  that  I  must 
have  the  measure  of  your  finger." 

"Well,  that  you  can  have  at  once."  She 
pulled  up  a  blade  of  grass  and  bit  it  off  the 
right  size  after  she  had  measured  her  finger. 
'*  There,  do  not  throw  it  away  !  " 

He  wrapped  it  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  put 
the  paper  in  his  pocket-book ;  she  watched  him 
until  the  pocket-book  was  entirely  out  of  sight. 


62  THE   nSHER   MAIDEN. 

"  Let  U8  go ;  it  would  be  tiresome  to  stay 
here  any  longer." 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  I  think  this  is  rather 
shabby,  Petra!" 

"  Very  well,  old  fellow,  if  you  do  not  want  it 
so,  it  is  all  one  to  me  I  " 

"Why,  of  course  I  want  it  so.  It  is  not 
that ;  but  am  I  not  so  much  as  to  take  hold  of 
your  hand  ?  " 

"What  for?" 

"  As  a  proof  that  we  are  really  engaged  I  " 

"  Such  nonsense !  Pray,  what  proof  is  there 
in  shaking  hands?  However,  you  may  take 
my  hand  if  you  like  ;  here  it  is.  —  No,  I  thank 
you,  not  any  squeezing,  sir  I  " 

She  drew  her  hand  back  again  under  the  ker 
chief ;  but  now  suddenly  she  raised  the  kerchief 
with  both  hands,  and  her  whole  face  was  dis- 
played to  view. 

"  If  you  tell  any  one,  Gunnar,  I  will  say  it  is 
not  true.     So  now  you  know  that." 

Here  she  laughed  and  started  down  the  hill 
again.     After  a  while  she  stopped  and  said,  — 

"To-morrow  the  sewing-school  will  not  be 
over  before  nine  o'clock ;  then  you  must  be 
waiting  behind  the  garden,  remember." 

"  Very  good." 

**  Well,  now  you  must  go  I  " 


THE   FISHES  MAIDEN.  68 

**  Will  yoa  not  even  shake  hands  with  me  at 
parting?" 

'*  I  cannot  see  why  you  are  always  wanting 
my  hand.  No,  you  shall  not  have  it.  Good- 
by  I  "  she  called  out,  and  sprang  from  him. 

The  next  evening  Petra  contrived  to  be  the 
last  at  the  sewing-school.  It  was  nearly  ten 
o'clock  when  she  left,  but  —  when  she  got  out- 
side the  garden  Gunnar  was  not  there.  She 
had  thought  of  all  kinds  of  mishaps,  but  not  of 
this ;  it  hurt  her  so  that  she  waited  merely  to 
give  him  a  sound  rating  when  he  did  come. 
She  did  not  lack  good  company,  however,  as 
she  walked  up  and  down  behind  the  garden  • 
for  the  merchant's  singing  society  had  just 
commenced  practising  in  a  house  near  by,  be- 
fore open  windows  ;  a  Spanish  song  floated  al- 
luringly to  her  on  the  mild  evening  air,  wafting 
her  away  to  Spain,  whore  she  heard  her  own 
praises  sung  from  an  open  balcony.  Spain  was 
the  goal  of  her  yearnings  ;  for  every  summer 
brought  the  dark  Spanish  ships  into  the  harbor, 
the  Spanish  songs  into  the  streets,  and  on  Ode- 
gaard's  walls  hung  a  series  of  beautiful  pictures 
from  Spain.  He  was  there  now,  most  likely, 
and  she  with  him  !  But  in  a  trice  she  was 
brought  back  to  reality ;  for  there,  behind  the 
upple-tree,   at    last    appeared    Gunnar.      She 


64  THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN. 

sprang  toward  —  not  Gunnar,  but  the  light  hat 
on  the  fair  hair,  just  returned  from  Spain. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  I  "  rang  out  the  bright  laugh- 
ter.    "  Do  you  take  me  for  some  one  else  ?  " 

She  eagerly  denied  this,  and  indignantly  has- 
tened away ;  but  he  ran  after  her,  talking,  all 
the  while  he  ran,  with  uncommon  rapidity  and 
with  that  indistinct  accent  people  acquire  who 
use  several  languages. 

"  You  see  I  can  keep  pace  with  you,  for  I 
run  astonishingly  well ;  it  is  no  use  trying.  I 
must  speak  with  you,  for  this  is  the  eighth 
evening  I  have  been  walking  here." 

"  The  eighth  evening ! '' 

"  The  eighth  evening,  ha,  ha,  ha  I  I  should 
be  willing  to  wait  here  eight  more,  for  we  suit 
each  other  admirably ;  do  we  not  ?  It  is  no 
use  for  you  to  run,  I  will  not  let  you  go  ;  for 
now  you  are  tired,  I  see." 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  you  are  1 " 

"  No,  I  am  not." 

"  Yes,  you  are.  Speak,  then,  if  you  are  not 
tired." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  I  Why,  that  is  not  speak- 
ing." 

And  then  they  stood  still.     They  exchanged 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  65 

iome  teasing  words,  half  in  jest,  half  in  ear- 
nest ;  then  he  began  to  speak  iu  glowing  terras 
of  Spain,  picture  followed  picture  in  rapid  suc- 
cession ;  he  ended  by  cursing  the  small  town  at 
their  feet.  His  first  remarks  Petra  followed 
with  beaming  eyes ;  the  second  made  her  ears 
tingle,  while  her  eyes  wandered  up  and  down  a 
gold  chain,  wound  twice  about  his  neck. 

"  Just  look  I "  said  he,  rapidly,  as  he  drew 
forth  the  end  of  the  chain,  to  which  was  at- 
tached a  gold  cross.  I  brought  this  with  me 
to-night  to  show  the  singing  society  ;  it  came 
from  Spain.     You  must  hear  its  history." 

And  then  he  told  it. 

"  When  I  was  in  the  south  of  Spain  I  went 
to  a  shooting  match,  and  won  this  prize.  It 
was  handed  to  me  with  these  words :  '  Take  it 
home  with  you  to  Norway  and  bestow  it,  in 
token  of  the  respectful  homage  of  Spanish  cav- 
aliers, on  the  fairest  woman  in  your  native 
land.'  Then  came  shouts  and  fanfares,  banners 
waved,  cavaliers  applauded,  and  I  accepted  the 
gift." 

"  Oh,  how  delightful !  "  burst  out  Petra  ;  for 
before  her  vision  there  rose  a  beaming  picture 
of  the  Spanish  festival,  with  the  Spanish  col- 
srs  and  songs,  while  the  dark-hued  Spaniards 
stood  at  the  foot  of  vine-clad  hills  in  the  eveii- 

6 


66  THE   nSHER  MAIDEN. 

ing  sunlight,  sending  their  thoughts  to  the 
fairest  woman  in  the  land  of  snow.  He  was 
a  good-natured  young  fellow,  in  spite  of  his 
strange  excitability  and  self-conceit ;  and  he 
stood  there  now  gratifying  her  eagerness  to 
hear  his  story. 

His  one  picture  after  the  other  increased  her 
longing,  and,  thoroughly  transported  into  that 
wondrous  land,  she  began  to  hum  a  Spanish 
song  she  had  recently  heard,  and  gradually  to 
move  her  feet  in  time  to  it. 

"What?  you  can  dance  Spanish  dances?" 
cried  he. 

"  Yes,"  she  hummed,  in  dancing  rhythm, 
snapping  her  fingers  to  imitate  the  castanets  ; 
for  she  had  seen  the  Spanish  sailors  dance. 

"  To  you  belongs  the  gift  of  the  Spanish  cav- 
aliers," he  burst  forth,  as  though  illumined  by 
a  radiant  thought.  "  You  are  the  most  beauti- 
ful woman  I  have  met !  " 

He  had  raised  the  gold  chain  from  his  neck, 
and,  with  a  light  hand,  flung  it  several  times 
around  hers  before  she  understood  him.  But 
when  she  understood,  that  deep  blush  of  shame 
that  was  peculiarly  her  own,  suffused  her  face, 
and  the  tears  filled  her  eyes,  so  that  A«,  who 
had  fallen  from  surprise  to  surprise,  was  now 
for  the  first  time  abashed  at  what  he  had  done 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  07 

ukd  not  knowing  what  further  he  wanted, 
only  feeling  that  he  ought  now  to  leave,  went 
away. 

At  midnight  she  still  stood  by  her  open  loft 
window  with  the  chain  in  her  hand.  The 
friendly  autumn  night  lay  spread  over  town 
and  fjord  and  distant  mountains ;  from  the 
street  resounded  the  Spanish  song ;  for  the 
singing  society  had  gone  home  with  Yngve 
Void.  Word  for  word  the  song  could  be 
heard ;  it  was  about  a  beautiful  wreath.  Only 
two  of  the  voices  sang  the  words ;  the  others 
imitated  a  guitar  accompaniment :  — 

"  Take  this  wreath,  thou  fairest  maideo, 
All  with  fragrant  kisses  laden ! 
Freshest  leaves  and  fluttering  grasses, 
To  the  brightest  of  young  lasses- 
Snowy  lilies,  frail  and  light. 
To  a  flower  more  pure  and  white; 
Crimson  buds,  that  long  to  blow, 
To  a  rose  of  richer  glow. 
Blossoms  sweetest,  blossoms  rarest, 
To  the  best  beloved,  the  fairest ! 
Take  this  wreath,  thoa  dearest  maiden, 
All  with  fragrant  kisses  laden! " 

When  she  opened  her  eyes  the  next  morning, 
she  thought  she  had  been  wandering  in  a  for- 
est filled  through  and  through  with  sunshine, 
And  where  all  the  trees  were  of  the  kind  we 
call  golden  shower,^  and  hung  in  long,  bright 

^  The  laburnum  tree. 


68  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

clusters  that  almost  touched  her  as  she  swept 
through.  At  once  she  remembered  the  chain^ 
seized  it,  and  hung  it  around  her  neck.  Next 
she  put  on  a  black  kerchief,  and  placed  the 
chain  over  it;  for  it  looked  better  on  black. 
Still  sitting  on  her  bed,  she  reflected  her  image 
in  a  small  hand-mirror :  —  could  it  be  possible 
that  she  was  so  beautiful?  She  stood  up  to 
arrange  her  hair,  and  take  another  look  at  her- 
self in  the  glass ;  but,  remembering  her  mother, 
who  as  yet  knew  nothing,  she  made  haste ;  she 
must  go  right  down  and  tell  her  about  it.  Just 
as  she  had  finished  dressing,  and  was  about 
hanging  the  chain  round  her  neck  again,  she 
fell  to  wondering  what  her  mother  would  say 
and  what  all  the  people  would  say,  and  what 
she  should  answer  when  they  asked  why  she 
wore  this  costly  chain.  As  the  question  would 
be  a  very  reasonable  one,  the  thought  kept  re- 
peating itself  with  more  and  more  seriousness, 
until  at  last  she  found  a  little  box,  laid  the 
chain  in  it,  thrust  the  box  in  her  pocket,  and 
felt,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  poor. 

She  did  not  go  to  her  usual  duties  that  morn- 
ing. Above  the  town,  near  the  spot  where  she 
had  received  the  chain,  she  sat  down  with  it  in 
ber  hand,  feeling  as  if  she  had  stolen  it. 

That  evening  she  waited  behind  the  garden 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  €9 

even  longer  for  Yngve  Void  than  she  had 
waited  the  evening  before  for  Gonnar ;  she 
wanted  to  return  the  chain.  Bnt  just  as  the 
vessel  Gunnar  had  gone  with  had  unexpectedly 
set  sail  the  day  before,  ovring  to  a  splendid 
cargo  it  had  had  assigned  to  it  in  the  adjoining 
town,  Yngve  Void,  who  owned  the  ship,  had 
gone  off  that  day  on  the  same  errand.  He  took 
with  him  several  commissions,  and  so  he  re- 
mained absent  three  weeks. 

During  these  three  weeks  the  chain  had  grad- 
ually found  its  way  from  her  pocket  to  the  bu- 
reau drawer,  and  from  there  again  into  an  en 
velope,  the  envelope  being  put  away  in  a  secret 
compartment.  Meanwhile,  Petra  herself  had 
passed  from  one  humiliating  discovery  to  an 
other.  For  the  first  time  she  became  fully 
aware  of  the  great  distance  between  her  and 
the  aristocratic  ladies  of  the  town ;  any  of 
them  could  have  worn  the  chain  without  fear 
of  being  questioned  about  where  it  came  from. 
To  none  of  them,  however,  would  Yngve  Void 
have  dared  offer  it  without  at  the  same  time 
offering  his  hand  :  this  was  only  possible  with 
the  fisher  maiden.  If  he  had  wanted  to  give 
her  anything,  he  might  have  chosen  something 
4ie  could  make  use  of ;  but  he  had  wanted  to 
InBult  her  all  the  more  deeply  by  giving  hei 


TO  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

what  she  could  not  possibly  wear.  The  story 
about  the  "fairest  woman  "  must  be  a  romance, 
for  had  the  chaia  been  bestowed  on  her  for 
that  reason,  it  would  not  have  come  to  her 
stealthily  and  by  night. 

Anger  and  shame  gnawed  all  the  more 
deeply,  as  she  no  longer  had  any  one  in  whom 
to  confide.  No  wonder,  then,  that  the  first 
time  she  again  met  him,  about  whom  revolved 
all  these  indignant  and  humiliating  thoughts, 
she  blushed  so  deeply  that  he  could  not  but  mis- 
construe it,  and,  conscious  of  this,  she  blushed 
still  more. 

She  hurriedly  turned  home,  seized  the  chain, 
and  although  it  was  yet  day-time  she  sat  down 
above  the  town  to  wait  for  him.  Now  he 
should  have  it  back.  She  felt  sure  he  would 
come,  for  he,  too,  had  blushed  on  seeing  her, 
and  he  had  been  absent  the  whole  time.  But 
soon  these  same  thoughts  began  to  speak  in  his 
behalf.  He  would  not  have  grown  so  red  had 
she  been  indifferent  to  him ;  he  would  have 
come  sooner  had  he  been  at  home.  Twilight 
was  creeping  on  apace  ;  for  during  these  three 
weeks  the  days  had  grown  very  much  shorter. 
But  as  darkness  closes  about  us  our  thoughts 
often  undergo  a  change.  She  was  sitting  right 
nbove  the  road  among  the  trees  ;  she  could  see, 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  71 

bat  not  be  seen.  When  time  wore  on  and  he 
did  not  come,  contending  emotions  flamed  up  ; 
now  in  anger,  now  in  alarm,  she  listened  ;  she 
heard  every  one  who  came  that  way  long  ere 
he  came  in  sight,  but  it  was  never  he.  Birds 
shifting  their  perches  among  the  foliage  while 
dozing,  startled  her,  so  on  the  strain  was  she ; 
every  sound  from  town,  every  cry  attracted  her 
attention.  A  large  ship  was  weighing  anchor 
amid  the  singing  of  the  sailors.  It  was  to  be 
towed  out  to-night  that  it  might  take  advan- 
tage of  the  first  morning  breeze.  How  she 
longed  to  sail  with  it  out  on  the  wide  ocean. 
The  song  of  the  sailors,  as  they  hoisted  the  sails, 
became  her  own.  The  sound  of  the  capstan 
gave  her  strength  ;  for  what  purpose  ;  whither 
would  it  bear  her? 

There  was  the  light  hat  in  the  road,  right 
in  front  of  her.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and, 
without  delay,  darted  off,  and  as  she  ran  she 
remembered  that  she  ought  not  to  have  run 
away ;  this  was  error  upon  error,  and  so  she 
paused.  As  he  approached  the  spot  where  she 
stood  among  the  trees,  she  was  panting  so  that 
he  heard  every  breath,  and  the  same  power  she 
had  exercised  over  him  on  their  previous  meet- 
mg  through  her  daring,  she  now  exercised 
through  her  fear.  He  stood  looking  at  her, 
shy,  even  bewildered,  and  whispered,  — 


T2  THE  FISHES  MAIDEN. 

"  Do  not  be  afraid." 

But  he  saw  that  she  was  trembling.  Then 
he  thought  to  give  her  confidence  by  taking 
her  hand ;  but  at  the  first  contact  with  his 
hand  she  sprang  up  as  if  on  fire,  and  off  she 
darted  again,  while  he  was  left  behind. 

She  did  not  run  far,  her  breath  gave  out ; 
there  was  a  throbbing  and  burning  in  her  tem- 
ples ;  her  heart  seemed  ready  to  burst ;  she 
pressed  her  hands  against  it  and  listened.  She 
heard  a  step  in  the  grass,  a  rustling  in  the  foli- 
age ;  he  was  coming,  and  right  toward  her. 
Did  he  see  her  ?  No,  he  did  not  I  Yes,  he  did, 
though  I  No,  he  was  passing  by !  She  was 
not  afraid,  that  was  not  what  was  the  matter ; 
but  she  had  been  wrought  up  to  a  high  pitch  of 
excitement,  and  her  strength  giving  way  with 
the  tension,  she  sank  down  weary,  exhausted. 

After  a  long  while,  she  got  up  and  walked 
slowly  down  the  slope,  paused,  and  then  walked 
on  ^ain  as  though  she  had  no  definite  goal. 
When  she  again  reached  the  road,  he  was  sit- 
ting patiently  waiting  there,  and  now  he  rose. 
She  had  not  seen  him  before ;  it  seemed  as  if 
she  had  been  walking  in  a  fog ;  not  a  word  es- 
caped her,  nor  did  she  stir ;  she  only  put  her 
hands  before  her  eyes  and  wept.  This  affected 
Yngve  Void  to  saoh  a  degree  that  his  usually 


THE  FISHEB  MAWZS.  T8 

bosy  tongne  was  lamed ;  bat  at  last  he  said, 
with  singular  firmness :  — 

"  1  will  speak  with  my  mother  this  evening ; 
to-morrow  everything  shall  be  settled,  and  in  a 
few  days  you  shall  go  abroad  in  view  of  becom- 
ing my  wife." 

He  waited  for  an  answer ;  he  expected,  at 
all  events,  that  she  would  look  up :  but  even 
this  she  did  not  do.  He  interpreted  this  in  his 
own  way  :  "  You  do  not  answer  ?  You  cannot  I 
Rely  on  me ;  for  from  this  moment  you  are 
mine  I     Good-night  I "  and  he  walked  on. 

She  stood  there  as  if  in  a  cloud  of  mist.  A 
feeble  sense  of  alarm  glided  in  and  strove  to 
part  this  ;  but  the  mist  closed  about' her  again. 

With  a  power  equal  to  that  which  Yngve 
Void  had  exercised  on  her  thoughts  during  the 
past  three  weeks,  did  this  new  wonder  pave  the 
way  for  a  new  series  of  dream  images.  He 
was  the  richest  man  of  the  town,  belonged  to 
its  oldest  family,  and  he  wanted  to  raise  her  to 
£iis  own  level.  This  was  such  an  unexpected 
change  from  all  she  had  been  dwelling  on  dur- 
ing the  long  period  of  sufEering  and  indigna- 
tion, that  it  was  calculated  to  make  her  happy 
at  once.  She  grew  more  and  more  so,  however, 
*fter  she  had  thoroughly  reviewed  her  new 
and,  in  every  respect,  overwhelming  circum- 


74  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

stances.  She  saw  herself  the  equal  of  every 
one  and  near  the  goal  of  all  her  vague  longings. 
Beyond  all  else  she  saw  Yngve  Void's  largest 
vessel  towed  out  as  a  flag-ship  on  her  wedding 
day ;  she  saw  it,  after  sending  forth  salutes  and 
fireworks,  take  the  newly-married  couple  on 
board,  and  bear  them  to  Spain,  where  glowed 
the  bridal  sun. 

When  she  awoke  the  next  morning,  the  serv- 
ant-girl came  up  and  announced  to  her  that  it 
was  half-past  eleven  o'clock.  Petra  was  most 
ravenously  hungry,  had  food  brought  to  her, 
called  for  more ;  her  head  ached,  she  was  weary, 
and  fell  asleep  once  more.  When  she  awoke 
again  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  she 
felt  quite  well.  Her  mother  came  up  and  said 
she  had  undoubtedly  slept  off  an  illness ;  she 
always  did  so  herself.  Now,  though,  it  was 
time  to  get  up  and  go  to  sewing-school.  Petra 
was  sitting  upright  in  bed,  her  head  supported 
by  her  arm  ;  without  looking  up  she  replied 
that  she  was  not  going  to  sewing-school  any 
more.  Thinking  that  very  likely  she  was  still 
somewhat  confused,  the  mother  went  down- 
stairs after  a  package  and  a  letter  which  a  ship- 
boy  had  brought. 

Why,  here  were  actually  presents  already  I 
Petra,  who  had  lain  down  again,  started  up  in 


THE   FISHER  MAIDEN  76 

baste,  and,  as  soon  as  she  was  alone,  openeci, 
with  a  certain  solemnity,  first  the  package  —  it 
contained  a  pair  of  French  shoes.  Rather  dis- 
appointed she  was  about  to  put  them  away 
from  her,  when  she  felt  that  the  toes  were 
heavy.  She  thrust  in  her  hand  and  drew  forth 
from  one  a  small  parcel,  wrapped  in  fine  paper  ; 
it  was  a  gold  bracelet :  from  the  other,  like- 
wise, a  parcel  neatly  done  up  ;  it  was  a  pair  of 
French  gloves  ;  and  from  the  right  glove  again 
she  drew  forth  a  paper  parcel  containing  two 
plain  gold  rings.  "Already!  "  thought  Petra, 
her  heart  throbbing  wildly.  She  looked  for 
the  inscription,  and,  sure  enough,  read  in  one, 
"  Petra,"  with  the  year  and  day  of  ,the  month ; 
and  in  the  other,  "  Gunnar."  She  grew  pale, 
flung  the  rings  and  the  whole  parcel  on  the 
floor  as  if  she  had  been  burned,  and  tore  open 
the  letter.     It  was  dated  Calais,  and  read  thus : 

Dear  Petba,  —  We  have  just  arrived  here, 
with  a  fair  breeze  from  latitude  61  to  54,  and 
later  with  a  strong  gale,  which  is  unusual  even 
for  better  vessels  than  ours,  although  it  is  a 
gallant  ship  under  sail.  But  now  I  must  tell 
you  that  all  the  way  I  have  been  thinking  of 
you  and  what  last  happened  between  us  two, 
%nd  it  was  so  aggravating  to  me  not  to  be  able 


76  THE  FISHEK  MAIDEN. 

to  take  a  proper  leave  of  you  that  I  went  on 
board  feeling  quite  out  of  sorts ;  but  I  have  not 
forgotten  you  since,  except  for  a  moment,  now 
and  then,  for  a  sailor  has  a  hard  time  of  it. 
But  now  we  have  reached  this  place,  and  I 
have  spent  all  my  pay  on  presents  for  you,  as 
you  told  me  to  do,  and  it  took  all  the  money 
mother  gave  me,  too,  so  now  I  have  nothing 
left.  If  I  can  get  leave  I  will  be  with  you  as 
quickly  as  the  presents  ;  for  as  long  as  we  keep 
this  secret,  I  can  never  feel  sure  about  others, 
especially  young  men,  of  whom  there  are 
many ;  but  I  am  bound  to  have  it  sure,  so  that 
no  one  will  have  an  excuse,  and  that  all  will 
have  to  beware  of  me.  You  can  easily  choose 
a  better  lover  than  I,  for  you  can  have  whom 
you  please ;  but  you  can  never  get  one  who  is 
more  faithful,  —  that  is  what  I  am.  Now  I 
will  close,  for  I  have  used  up  two  sheets  of 
paper,  and  the  letters  are  growing  large ;  for 
this  is  the  hardest  thing  I  have  to  do ;  but  still 
I  do  it,  since  you  wish  it.  And  now,  in  con 
elusion,  I  must  say  that  I  take  it  for  granted 
that  you  were  in  earnest ;  for  if  you  were  not 
in  earnest  it  would  be  a  great  shame,  and 
bring  unhappiness  to  many. 

GuNNAB  Ask, 
Second  mate  on  the  brig  The  Norse  Oonsti- 
tution. 


THE   FISHER  MAIDEN.  77 

A  great  fear  took  possession  of  her.  In  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye  she  was  out  of  bed  and 
dressed.  She  felt  that  she  must  go  out,  as  if 
counsel  might  somewhere  be  found,  for  every- 
thing had  become  confused,  uncertain,  danger- 
ous. The  more  she  thought  of  it,  the  more 
entangled  became  the  thread:  some  one  must 
help  her  unravel  it,  or  she  could  never  get 
loose  !  But  in  whom  dared  she  confide  ?  It 
could  be  none  other  than  her  mother.  When, 
after  a  long  struggle,  she  stood  in  the  kitchen 
beside  her,  flushed,  tearful,  but  strong  in  her 
resolve  to  give  perfect  confidence  that  she 
might  gain  perfect  help,  her  mother  said,  with- 
out looking  round  and  so  without  noticing  Pe- 
tra's  countenance,  — 

"  He  has  just  now  been  here ;  he  has  come 
home  again." 

"  Who  ?  "  whispered  Petra,  clinging  to  the 
nearest  object  to  keep  from  falling  ;  for  if  Gun- 
nar  had  come  already  all  hope  was  destroyed. 
She  knew  Gunnar ;  he  was  dull  and  good-nat- 
ured ;  but  once  aroused  to  passion,  he  lost  all 
lelf-control, 

"  You  are  to  come  there  at  once,  he  said." 

"There?"  Petra  trembled,  for  it  flashed 
over  her  that  he  must  liave  told  his  mother 
everything  ;  and  now  what  was  to  be  done  ? 


78  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

"  Yes,  to  the  parsonage,"  said  her  mothei. 

"  To  the  parsonage  ?  Is  it  Odegaard  who  i« 
come  home  ?  " 

Her  mother  now  turned  toward  her. 

"Yes;  who  else?" 

"  Odegaard  I  "  exulted  Petra,  and  the  storm 
of  joy  which  broke  over  her  purified  the  atmos- 
phere at  once.  "  Odegaard  is  come,  Odegaard ! 
O  God  in  Heaven,  he  is  come !  " 

She  sprang  from  the  door  and  across  the 
fields.  She  stormed  forward,  she  laughed,  she 
shouted  aloud ;  it  was  him,  him,  she  needed ; 
had  he  been  at  home,  no  evil  would  have  oc- 
curred. With  him  she  was  safe ;  if  she  but 
thought  of  his  exalted,  glowing  countenance, 
his  gentle  voice  ;  yes,  even  the  peaceful  rooms 
he  occupied,  with  their  rich  supply  of  pictures, 
she  grew  more  calm,  and  felt  secure  once  more. 
She  took  time  to  compose  herself.  Town  and 
landscape  were  flooded  with  light  in  the  declin- 
ing autumn  evening,  especially  the  fjord  lay  in 
strong  radiance ;  in  the  sound  beyond  was  curl- 
ing away  the  last  smoke  from  the  steamer  that 
had  brought  Odegaard.  Ah,  only  to  know  that 
he  was  home  again  did  her  good,  made  her 
feel  happy,  strong,  capable  once  more.  She 
prayed  God  to  come  to  her  aid  that  Odegaard 
might  never  leave  her  alone  again.     And,  as  ii 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  79 

transported  by  this  hope,  she  at  that  moment 
flaw  him  coming  toward  her.  He  had  known 
which  way  she  would  take  and  had  come  out  to 
meet  her.  This  touched  her ;  she  sprang  to- 
ward him,  seized  both  his  hands,  and  kissed 
them.  He  was  embarrassed,  and  seeing  some 
one  approach  in  the  distance,  he  drew  her  from 
the  road,  up  among  the  trees,  holding  fast  to 
her  hands,  and  all  the  way  she  kept  saying,  — 

"  How  delightful  that  you  are  come  !  Ah,  I 
cannot  believe  it  is  you  !  You  must  never  go 
away  again  1  Do  not  leave  me  —  ah  I  do  not 
leave  me  I " 

Here  the  tears  streamed  from  her  eyes ;  he 
drew  her  head  gently  to  him  that*  he  might 
hide  them.  He  wanted  to  quiet  her ;  for  it 
was  needful  for  him  that  she  should  be  calm, 
She  nestled  up  to  him  as  a  bird  beneath  the 
wing  that  is  uplifted  for  its  shelter,  and  fain 
would  she  never  have  come  forth.  Moved  by 
her  trust,  he  drew  his  arm  about  her  as  if  he 
would  assure  her  of  the  refuge  she  sought ;  but 
scarcely  did  she  perceive  this  than  she  raised 
her  tear-stained  face  to  him,  her  eyes  met  his, 
and  all  that  can  be  expressed  in  a  glance,  when 
penitence  meets  love,  when  gratitude  meets  the 
giver's  joy,  when  "  yes  "  meets  "  yes,"  now  fol- 
V>wed  in  rapid  succession.      He  clasped  her 


80  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

hand,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers ;  he  had 
early  lost  his  mother ;  —  he  kissed  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  and  she  did  the  same.  Neither 
could  bear  to  break  away,  and  when  their  lips 
parted  it  was  only  to  close  again.  He  trem- 
bled, but  she  was  radiant  and  all  aglow  with 
blushes ;  she  flung  her  arms  about  his  neck, 
and  clung  like  a  child  to  him.  And  when  they 
sat  down  together,  and  she  could  touch  his 
hands,  his  hair,  his  pin,  his  neck-tie,  all  that 
she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  surveying  from  a 
respectful  distance;  and  when  he  begged  her 
to  say  "  thou  "  instead  of  "  you,"  and  she  could 
not ;  and  when  he  tried  to  tell  her  how  rich 
she  had  made  his  poor  life  from  the  first  mo- 
ment, and  how  long  he  had  struggled  against 
his  feelings,  determined  that  they  should  not 
check  her  progress  ;  and  then  discovered  that 
she  was  unable  to  take  in  or  comprehend  a  sin- 
gle word  he  was  uttering,  and  began  to  think 
himself  there  was  not  much  sense  in  it  either , 
but  she  wanted  to  go  home  with  him  at  once, 
and  he  laughingly  must  beg  her  to  wait  a  few 
days  and  then  they  could  journey  far  away  to- 
gether ;  then  they  felt,  then  they  said,  as  they 
sat  among  the  trees,  with  fjord  and  mountain 
before  them  bathed  in  the  sunset  glow,  that 
this  was  happiness. 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  81 

Ab,  sweet  is  Love's  first  meeting ! 

Like  soDg,  the  forest  waiting, 

Or  o'er  the  ocean  breaking, 
Like  sunset's  rosy  greeting  ;  — 

Like  bngle-tones  ascending 
To  heav'n,  these  moments  thrilling, 

With  Nature's  wonders  blending, 
(>ar  h«:arts  with  music  filling. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  next  morning  Petra  sat  in  her  room 
half  dressed,  and  could  get  no  further  the 
whole  day.  Each  time  she  made  a  fresh  effort, 
her  arms  fell  powerless  on  her  lap.  Her 
thoughts  were  weighed  down  like  a  full-ripe  ear 
of  corn,  like  rich  bluebells  in  the  fields.  Peace, 
security,  fluctuating  visions  hovered  over  the 
bright  castle  wherein  she  dwelt.  She  lived 
over  again  the  interview  of  yesterday,  —  every 
word,  every  look,  every  pressure  of  the  hand, 
every  kiss  was  present  before  her ;  she  wished 
to  pass  it  all  in  review  from  the  meeting  to 
the  parting,  but  could  never  get  through,  for 
every  single  reminiscence  became  transformed 
into  a  shadowy  dream,  and  each  dream  kept 
returning  with  bright  promises.  Sweet  as  this 
was,  she  was  forced  to  thrust  it  from  her  in 
order  to  recall  where  she  had  left  off ;  but  no 
sooner  did  she  recall  it  than  she  was  again  lost 
in  the  marvelous. 

As  she  did  not  come  down-stairs,  her  mother 
supposed  that  she  had  taken  up  her  studies 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  88 

vgain,  now  that  Odegaard  had  returned ;  so  her 
neals  were  sent  up,  and  she  was  to  be  left  in 
peace  the  whole  day.  Not  until  toward  evening 
did  she  rise  to  make  herself  ready ;  she  was  go- 
ing to  meet  her  love.  She  attired  herself  in  the 
best  she  possessed —  all  her  confirmation  finery ; 
it  was  not  elegant,  but  she  felt  this  now  for  the 
first  time.  She,  who  had  had  so  little  taste  for 
dress,  to-day  suddenly  acquired  it.  One  article 
made  the  others  look  ugly  until  those  had  been 
selected  that  suited  together,  and  even  then  the 
effect  was  not  tasteful.  She  would  have  given 
much  to-day  to  be  the  fairest  one  —  but  with 
these  words  there  glided  before  her  a  remem- 
brance which  she  thrust  away  with  her  hand ; 
nothing,  nothing  must  approach  her  that  might 
cause  her  disquietude.  She  stepped  about 
softly,  quietly  arranging  one  thing  and  another 
in  her  room,  as  the  time  had  not  yet  come. 
She  opened  the  window  and  looked  out ;  rosy, 
glowing  clouds  had  pitched  their  tents  above 
the  mountains  ;  but  a  cooling  breeze  floated  in 
with  a  message  from  the  forest  near  by.  "  Yes, 
now  I  am  coming  1  now  I  am  coming  I  "  her 
heart  whispered  as  she  once  more  turned  to  the 
mirror  to  bestow  a  greeting  upon  her  bridal 
emotions. 

Then  she  heard  Odegaard's  voice  below  with 


84  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

ner  mother,  heard  him  directed  how  to  find  hei 
room.  He  was  coming  to  fetch  her.  A  shy 
joy  came  over  her ;  she  glanced  around  to  see 
if  all  was  in  order  to  receive  him,  then  she 
went  to  the  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "  she  answered  softly  to  the  low 
knock,  and  then  stepped  back  a  few  paces. 

That  same  morning,  when  Odegaard  rang  for 
his  coffee,  he  had  been  informed  that  the  mer- 
chant, Yngve  Void,  had  already  been  twice  at 
the  door,  asking  for  him.  It  jarred  on  him 
that  a  stranger  had  to  be  blended  with  his 
thoughts  just  now;  and  yet  one  who  sought 
him  so  early  must  have  some  very  important 
errand.  He  was,  indeed,  hardly  dressed  when 
Yngve  Void  came  again. 

"  You  are  doubtless  surprised  ?  Well,  so  am 
I.     Good  day  I  " 

Greetings  were  exchanged,  and  the  merchant 
laid  aside  his  light  hat. 

"  You  sleep  late  ;  I  have  been  here  twice  be- 
fore. I  have  something  important  on  my  mind, 
I  must  speak  with  you." 

"  Pray,  be  seated !  "  And  Odegaard  himself 
sat  down  in  an  easy  chair. 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  I  prefer  to  walk,  T 
*m  excited.     Since  day  before  yesterday  T  have 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  86 

been  out  of  my  wits  —  actually  mad,  neither 
more  nor  less.     And  you  are  to  blame !  " 

"I?" 

"  Yes,  you.  It  was  you  who  first  brought 
the  girl  forward ;  no  one  had  thought  of  her, 
no  one  noticed  her  but  you.  But  now,  upon 
my  word,  I  assure  you  I  have  never  seen 
anything  so  peerless  myself  —  so  —  is  it  not 
true  ?  Indeed,  in  all  Europe  I  have  never  seen 
so  confounded  a  curly-headed  wonder ;  have 
you  ?  I  could  find  no  peace  ;  I  was  bewitched. 
Everywhere  and  always  she  kept  coming  in 
my  way.  I  went  on  a  voyage,  I  came  back 
again,  impossible  —  am  I  not  right  ?  Did  not 
know  at  first  who  she  was.  The  fisher  maiden, 
they  said  —  the  Spanish  maiden,  they  should 
have  said,  the  gypsy,  the  witch,  all  fire,  eyes, 
bosom,  hair  —  eh?  How  she  sparkles,  glows, 
skips,  laughs,  blushes  —  a  perfect  little  witch. 
I  chased  her,  you  see,  up  among  the  trees  in 
the  forest  —  one  calm  evening  —  there  she 
stood,  there  I  stood ;  a  few  words,  a  song,  a 
dance  —  and  then  ?  Well,  I  gave  her  my 
chain  ;  as  sure  as  I  live  I  had  not  thought  of  it 
a  minute  before.  Next  time,  the  same  place, 
the  same  chase ;  she  was  frightened,  and  I  — 
yes,  can  you  believe  it  ?  —  I  could  not  speak 
»ne  mortal  word,  dared  not  even  touch  her ; 


80  THE  FISHEB  MATOEN. 

but  when  she  came  back  —  can  you  understand 
it  ?  —  I  proposed  to  her.  I  had  not  thought  of 
it  a  second  beforehand  I  Now  yesterday  I  put 
myself  to  the  test ;  I  tried  how  it  would  be  to 
keep  away  from  her,  but  on  my  soul  and  honor, 
I  am  mad,  indeed,  I  am  —  I  cannot^  I  must  be 
with  her.  If  she  does  not  marry  me  I  will 
simply  shoot  myself.  See  —  now  you  have  the 
whole  story.  The  deuce  a  bit  do  I  care  for  my 
mother,  or  for  the  town  —  it  is  a  miserable  town, 
a  mere  hole  of  a  place,  a  hole  of  a  place.  She 
must  go  away,  you  see ;  she  must  be  far  beyond 
and  above  this  town ;  she  must  become  eomme  il 
faut ;  1  she  must  go  abroad,  to  France  tc  Paris. 
I  will  pay  the  expenses  and  you  must  make 
the  arrangements.  I  might  leave  here  myself, 
settle  abroad,  no  longer  stay  in  this  hole  ;  but, 
you  see,  there  is  the  fish  I  I  should  like  to 
make  something  of  the  town  ;  it  is  asleep ;  no 
one  thinks,  no  one  speculates;  yet  there  are 
the  fish  !  There  is  no  management  of  the  fish- 
eries, though ;  the  Spaniards,  everybody  abroad, 
complain ;  new  methods  must  be  found,  an- 
other way  of  curing  introduced  ;  there  must  be 
different  management  —  an  entire  change.  The 
town  must  have  a  start,  trade  flourish;  the 
fisheries  ought  to  be  worth  millions  I  —  Where 

1  Meaning  in  thoroughly  good  style. 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  87 

did  I  leave  off?  The  fisheries,  the  fisher 
maiden  ;  —  for  that  matter,  they  belong  to- 
gether. The  fisheries,  the  fisher  maiden,  ha, 
ha !  Well,  then,  I  furnish  the  cash  ;  you  make 
the  arrangements;  she  will  be  my  wife,  and 
then  "  — 

Farther  he  did  not  get ;  during  his  speech  he 
had  paid  no  heed  to  Odegaard,  who  had  risen  to 
his  feet,  pale  as  a  corpse,  and  now  attacked  him 
with  a  delicate  Spanish  cane  in  his  hand.  The 
merchant's  amazement  was  beyond  description 
he  warded  off  the  first  blow. 

"  Take  care,  you  may  hit  me  I "  said  he. 

"  Yes,  I  may  hit  you  I  You  see :  Spanish, 
Spanish  cane  ;  they  belong  together  1  **  and  the 
blows  fell  in  showers  on  shoulders,  arms,  hands, 
face,  wherever  they  chanced  to  hit.  The  mer- 
chant darted  round  the  room. 

"  Are  you  mad  I  Have  you  lost  your  senses  I 
I  mean  to  marry  her,  —  do  you  hear  ? — marry 
berl" 

"  Begone  !  "  shrieked  Odegaard,  whose 
strength  was  now  exhausted. 

And  out  of  the  door,  and  down  the  steps 
plunged  the  fair-haired  man,  away  from  this 
madman ;  and  soon  he  stood  in  the  street  be- 
low, screaming  up  for  his  light  hat.  It  was 
lung  out  of  the  window  to  him.  Then  all  was 
itiU. 


68  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

"  Come  in  1  "  replied  Petra  to  the  low  knock 
in  the  evening,  and  stepped  back  a  few  paces 
that  she  might  have  a  better  view  of  her  lover" 
as  he  entered.  Like  an  ice-cold  bath,  as  if  the 
ground  had  slipped  away  beneath  her  feet,  she 
beheld  the  face  that  met  her  in  the  door.  She 
reeled  backward  and  grasped  the  bed-post,  but, 
hurled  from  abyss  to  abyss,  her  mind  lost  all 
support.  Instantly  she  was  rudely  transformed 
from  the  happiest  bride  on  earth  to  the  most 
guilty  sinner.  This  face,  as  though  with  the 
voice  of  thunder,  proclaimed  to  her  that  through 
time  and  eternity  she  could  never  be  forgiven. 

"  I  see  it ;  you  are  guilty  I  "  he  whispered,  in 
scarcely  audible  tones. 

He  leaned  back  against  the  door,  clinging  to 
the  latch,  as  if  without  it  he  could  not  stand. 
His  voice  quivered,  tears  rolled  down  his  face, 
although  otherwise  it  was  unmoved. 

"  Do  you  realize  what  you  have  done  ?  "  and 
his  eyes  pressed  her  to  the  ground.  She  did 
not  reply  —  not  even  with  tears ;  she  was  par- 
alyzed by  utter,  helpless  despair.  "  Once  before 
I  gave  my  whole  soul  away,  and  he  on  whom 
I  bestowed  it  died  through  my  fault.  It  was 
impossible  for  me  to  rise  above  this  sorrow  un- 
less some  one  else  should  lend  me  a  helping 
oand  and  give  to  me  her  whole  heart.     This 


THE  nSHER   MAIDEN.  89 

you  have  done  —  but  you  did  it  through  decep- 
tion." He  paused,  vainly  strove  several  times 
to  begin  again,  and  finally,  with  a  burst  of 
agony,  continued :  "  And  all  that  I  had  been 
gathering  together  for  years,  thought  after 
thought,  you  were  capable  of  overthrowing,  as 
though  it  were  an  image  of  clay  I  Child,  child, 
could  you  not  understand  that  I  had  worked 
my  own  way  up  through  you  ?  Now  it  is  all 
over  I "     He  made  an  effort  to  control  his  pain. 

"  No,  you  are  too  young  to  comprehend  it," 
he  said,  presently ;  "  you  do  not  know  what 
you  have  done.  But  you  must  understand  that 
you  have  deceived  me.  Tell  me,  what  had  I 
done  to  you  that  you  were  able  to  do  anything 
80  cruel  ?  Child,  child,  would  that  you  had 
told  me  this  even  yesterday  I  Why,  ah,  why, 
did  you  lie  so  frightfully  ?  " 

She  heard  his  words ;  she  knew  that  all  he 
said  was  true.  He  had  staggered  across  the 
room  to  a  chair  that  stood  near  the  window 
that  he  might  lean  his  head  on  a  table  beside 
it.  He  rose  again,  sobbing  with  anguish,  then 
took  his  seat  once  more,  and  was  quiet. 

"And  I  who  am  not  fit  to  help  my  old 
father  I  "  he  whispered  to  himself,  "  I  cannoty  I 
have  no  call  for  the  work.  That  is  why  no 
one  can  help  me,  —  all,  all  that  is  mine  most  be 
dashed  to  pieces." 


90  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

He  was  powerless  to  continue.  His  head 
rested  in  his  right  hand,  while  his  left  hung 
relaxed  at  his  side ;  he  looked  as  if  he  were 
incapable  of  motion.  Thus  he  sat  there,  and 
spoke  not  a  word.  Presently  he  felt  something 
warm  against  the  hand  that  hung  at  his  side, 
and  shuddered  with  terror,  for  it  was  Petra's 
breath.  She  was  kneeling  beside  him  with 
bowed  head,  and  now  she  clasped  her  hands 
and  looked  up  into  his  face  with  the  most  un- 
utterable prayer  for  mercy.  He  returned  her 
gaze,  and  the  eyes  of  neither  wavered.  Then 
he  raised  his  hand  to  repel  her,  as  though  her 
gaze  had  stirred  within  him  a  persuasive  voice 
to  which  he  would  not  hearken,  and  rapidly, 
vehemently,  he  stooped  for  his  hat,  that  had 
fallen  to  the  floor,  and  hastened  to  the  door. 
But  still  more  rapidly  did  she  throw  herself  in 
his  way,  fling  herself  down  before  him,  cling  to 
his  knee,  and  fasten  her  eyes  on  his  —  all  with- 
out a  sound.  He  both  saw  and  felt  this  to  be 
a  struggle  for  life.  His  old  love  overpowered 
him ;  with  deep  pain  in  his  eyes,  he  once  more 
looked  her  full  in  the  face,  he  took  her  head  in 
his  two  hands.  There  was  a  wailing  cry  with- 
in his  breast;  it  was  like  the  last  quivering 
vibrations  of  an  organ  when  there  is  still  wind 
in   Mie  pipes  bat   the  music  has  died  away 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  91 

Then  he  drew  back  his  hands,  and  he  did  it  in 
such  a  manner  that  his  thoughts  were  but  too 
evident. 

"  No  —  no  I  You  can  yield  ;  but  you  cannot 
love  I "  He  was  overwhelmed.  "  Unhappy 
child,  your  future  is  beyond  my  control.  God 
forgive  you  for  having  ruined  mine  !  " 

He  strode  past  her ;  she  did  not  stir ;  he 
opened  the  door  and  closed  it  again  ;  she  spoke 
not  a  word ;  she  heard  him  on  the  stairs ;  she 
heard  his  last  step  on  the  flag-stones  and  down 
on  the  road  —  then  she  found  relief  in  one 
piercing  shriek,  only  one;  but  it  brought  her 
mother  to  her. 

When  Petra  awoke  to  consciousness,  she 
found  herself  lying  in  her  bed,  undressed, 
and  carefully  tended.  In  front  of  her  sat  her 
mother,  her  elbows  on  her  knees,  her  head  in 
her  hands,  and  her  eyes  of  flame  fastened  on 
her  daughter. 

"  Have  you  studied  enough  with  him  ? " 
asked  she.  "  Have  you  learned  something 
now  ?     What  is  now  to  become  of  you  ?  " 

Petra  replied  with  a  burst  of  tears.  Long, 
very  long  did  her  mother  sit  listening  to  this, 
and  then  with  a  solemnity  peculiar  to  her.  she 
said:  — 

"  May  the  Lord  corse  himl " 


92  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

The  daughter  started  up. 

"  Mother,  mother  I  Not  him,  not  him,  but 
me,  me  —  not  him  I  " 

"  Ah,  I  know  the  crowd !  I  know  who  is  to 
blame  I " 

"No,  mother!  It  is  he  who  has  been  de- 
ceived and  by  me  —  it  is  I  who  have  deceived 
him  I  " 

Hurriedly,  and  amid  sobs,  she  told  all;  he 
should  not  be  suspected  one  moment ;  she  told 
about  Gunnar  and  what  she  had  asked  of  him 
without  actually  understanding  it ;  then  about 
Yngve  Void's  unlucky  gold  chain,  which  had 
so  deeply  entangled  her,  and  then  about  Ode- 
gaard  and  how,  when  she  saw  him,  she  had  for- 
gotten all  else.  She  could  not  understand  how 
it  had  come  to  pass,  but  that  it  was  a  mon- 
strous sin  against  them  all,  and  especially 
against  him  who  had  taken  her  under  his  pro- 
tection, and  given  her  all  that  one  mortal  can 
give  another,  she  well  knew.  After  having 
long  remained  in  silence,  the  mother  replied :  — 

"  And  is  there  no  sin  against  me  ?  Where 
have  I  been  during  all  this  time  that  you  have 
never  said  a  word  to  me  ?  " 

"Oh,  mother,  help  me;  do  not  be  hard  on 
me  now.  I  feel  that  I  shall  suffer  for  this  aa 
long  as  I  live ;  and  so  I  will  pray  God  to  let 


THE   FISUEB  MAIDEN.  98 

me  die  soon  I  Dear,  good  Lord  ! "  she  forth- 
with began,  clasping  and  uplifting  her  hands, 
"  dear,  good  Lord,  hear  me  1  Already  I  have 
wasted  my  life ;  it  has  nothing  more  to  offer 
me.  I  am  not  fit  to  live  ;  I  do  not  understand 
life.     Dear  Lord,  let  me  then  die  I  " 

There  was  such  an  awful  intensity  in  the 
prayer,  that  Gunlaug,  who  already  had  harsh 
words  on  her  lips,  swallowed  them  and  laid  her 
hand  on  her  daughter's  arm  to  draw  it  away 
from  this  prayer. 

"  Control  your  feelings,  child.  Do  not  tempt 
the  Lord.  You  must  live,  however  great  the 
pain." 

She  rose  with  these  words  and  never  set  foot 
in  the  loft  chamber  again. 

Odegaard  had  fallen  into  an  illness  which 
threatened  to  be  dangerous.  At  once  his  old 
father  moved  up-stairs  to  him,  took  a  room  next 
to  his  for  his  study,  and  told  every  one  who 
begged  him  to  spare  himself  that  this  was  im- 
possible ;  his  work  was  to  watch  over  his  son 
every  time  that  son  lost  any  one  of  those  whom 
he  loved  more  than  his  father. 

Thus  matters  stood  ;  and  now  Gunnar  came 
home. 

He  almost  frightened  the  life  out  of  his 
mother  by  appearing  long  before  the  vessel  he 


94  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

had  gone  with ;  she  thought  it  was  his  ghost 
and  not  very  different  was  it  with  all  his  ac- 
quaintances. To  all  wondering  queries  he  gave 
but  scant  replies.  People,  however,  soon  be- 
came better  informed;  for  that  same  day  he 
was  driven  out  of  Gunlaug's  house  and  by  Gun- 
laug  herself.  On  the  steps  she  sent  a  shriek 
after  him  that  rang  through  Holloway  Street. 

"  Never  come  here  again ;  we  have  had 
enough  of  your  sort  now  I  " 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  a  girl  -i&me  in 
pursuit  of  him  with  a  parcel.  She  had  another 
one  with  her,  but  gave  him  the  wrong  one,  for 
Gunnar  found  in  it  a  large  gold  cb  in.  He 
stood  weighing  this  and  looking  at  it  he  had 
not  understood  Gunlaug's  rage  before  ;  still  less 
did  he  now  understand  why  she  se^t  him  a 
gold  chain.  He  called  the  girl  back  ;  ^md  then 
she  thought  she  must  have  made  a  miotake,  so 
she  gave  him  the  other  parcel,  and  aske4  if  that 
was  right.  The  parcel  proved  to  contain  his 
gifts  to  Petra.  Yes,  this  was  surely  tb*  one  , 
but  who,  then,  was  to  have  the  gold  chain  ? 
"  That  was  meant  for  Merchant  Void,"  an- 
swered the  girl,  and  went  off  with  it.  Gunnar 
paused  again,  and  reflected.  "  Merchant  Void ! 
Does  he  give  her  presents.  Then  it  is  he  who 
has  stolen  her  from  me  !     Very  well,  then  h*^ 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDI3}.  95 

too,  shall " —  His  excitement,  his  wrath,  must 
have  some  Tent ;  something  must  be  all  beaten 
to  pieces — and  so  he  determined  to  beat  Yngve 
Void. 

The  unlucky  merchant  was  once  more  quite 
unexpectedly  attacked,  and  this  time  on  his 
own  door-steps.  He  fled  from  this  second  lu- 
natic into  his  counting-house  ;  but  Gunnar  was 
after  him.  Here  all  the  clerks  rose  up  against 
this  riotous  intruder,  who  dealt  kicks  and  blows 
in  every  direction;  chairs,  tables,  and  desks 
were  overturned ;  letters,  documents,  and  news- 
papers floated  about  like  smoke;  help  finally 
came  from  Yngve's  pier,  and  after  a  desperate 
struggle  Gunnar  was  cast  out  into  the  street. 
But  here  the  fight  began  to  be  serious.  Two 
ships  lay  by  the  pier,  a  foreign  one  and  a 
home  vessel,  and  it  was  now  just  at  the  time  of 
noonday  rest,  so  the  sailors  gladly  entered  into 
the  sport.  They  lost  no  time  in  coming  to 
blows,  crew  against  crew,  foreigners  against 
natives  ;  the  crews  of  several  vessels  were  sent 
for,  and  came  running  up  in  double-quick  pace ; 
working-people  flocked  round,  and  women  and 
boys ;  at  last  no  one  knew  what  the  fight  was 
about,  or  against  whom.  In  vain  the  skip- 
pers swore  ;  in  vain  worthy  citizens  commanded 
that  the  one  policeman  of  the  town  should  be 


96  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

sammoned :  he  was  at  that  time  out  fishing  in 
the  fjord.  They  ran  to  the  mayor,  who  was 
also  postmaster ;  but  he  had  locked  himself  up 
with  the  mail  that  had  just  arrived,  and  an- 
swered through  the  window  that  he  could  not 
come  ;  the  post-office  clerk  was  at  a  burial,  and 
they  must  wait.  But  as  they  would  not  delay 
murdering  one  another  until  the  mail  had  been 
sorted,  several  voices,  chiefly  those  of  terrified 
women,  shouted  that  word  should  be  sent  for 
Arne,  the  blacksmith.  This  was  agreed  to  by 
the  worthy  citizens,  and  now  Arne's  own  wife 
was  sent  after  him,  "  for  the  policeman  was  not 
at  home."  Arne  came,  to  the  delight  of  all 
school-boys,  and  he  made  a  couple  of  dashes  at 
the  crowd,  brought  forth  a  gallant  Spaniard, 
and  used  him  as  a  club  against  all  the  others, 
promiscuously. 

When  all  was  over,  the  mayor  came  walking 
along,  staff  in  hand.  He  found  some  old 
women  and  children  talking  together  on  the 
field  of  battle.  These  he  sternly  commanded 
to  go  home  and  eat  their  dinner,  and  then  he 
himself  did  the  same. 

But  the  next  day  he  instituted  a  trial ;  this 
lasted  some  time,  although  no  one  could  give 
the  least  information  concerning  who  had  been 
fighting.     Only  on  one  point  were  they  ali 


THE   FISHER   MAmEN.  97 

agreed,  and  that  was  that  Arne  the  black- 
smith had  beeu  in  the  fray,  and  they  had  seen 
him  belaboring  the  rest  with  a  Spaniard.  For 
this  conduct  Arne  the  blacksmith  was  fined 
one  dollar,  for  which  his  wife,  who  had  led  him 
into  the  scrape,  received  a  thrashing  on  the 
eleventh  Sunday  after  Trinity,  which  she  had 
good  cause  to  remember.  This  wivs  the  sole 
judicial  result  of  the  battle. 

But  it  had  other  results.  The  little  town 
was  no  longer  a  peaceful  town;  the  fisher 
maiden  had  thrown  it  into  an  uproar.  The 
strangest  rumors  were  set  afloat,  —  at  first  from 
jealous  resentment  that  she  should  have  at- 
tracted the  most  talented  man  of  the  town  and 
its  two  wealthiest  matches  and  still  have  "  sev- 
eral "  in  reserve  ;  for  Gunnar  had  gradually 
become  "several  young  men."  Soon  there 
arose  a  universal  moral  storm.  The  disgrace 
of  a  great  street  fight  and  sorrow  in  three  of 
the  best  families  of  the  town  rested  on  the 
young  girl  who  but  half  a  year  since  had  been 
confirmed.  Three  engagements  at  once,  and 
one  of  them  with  her  teacher,  her  life  benefac- 
tor !  Ah  I  indignation  overflowed.  Had  she 
not  been  a  scandal  to  the  town  from  her  child- 
hood up,  and  had  not  the  people  nevertheless 
Bho%vn  her  how  much  they  expected  of  her  by 


98  THE  FISHER  IIAIDEN. 

their  gifts  at  the  time  when  Odegaard  had  in- 
terested himself  in  her,  and  had  she  not  now 
scorned  them  all,  crushed  him,  and,  true  to  her 
natare,  plunged  recklessly  into  a  career  that 
would  lead  her  to  become  an  outcast  of  society, 
with  an  old  age  in  the  house  of  correction? 
Her  mother  must  be  her  accomplice ;  in  her 
sailor's  inn  the  child  had  learned  levity.  The 
yoke  Gunlaug  had  laid  on  the  town  should  no 
longer  be  borne  ;  the  people  would  no  longer 
tolerate  either  mother  or  daughter  among  them ; 
they  would  unite  in  driving  them  away. 

One  evening  seafaring  people  who  owed 
Gunlaug  money,  drunken  laborers  for  whom  she 
would  not  get  work,  young  boys  to  whom  she 
had  refused  credit,  assembled  on  the  hiU,  and 
were  led  by  people  of  the  better  class.  They 
whistled,  they  hallooed,  they  shouted  for  the 
"  fisher  maiden,"  for  "  fisher  Gunlaug ; "  soon 
a  stone  was  flung  against  the  door  and  another 
through  the  loft  window.  They  did  not  dis- 
perse until  past  midnight.  Behind  the  windows 
all  was  dark  and  stiU. 

The  next  day  not  a  living  soul  would  look  in 
on  Gunlaug ;  not  even  a  child  passed  by  on  the 
hill.     In  the  evening,  however,  there  was  the 
same  disorderly  mob,  only  that  now  every  one 
without  exception,  joined  in ;    they  trampled 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  99 

under  foot,  they  smashed  all  the  windows,  they 
tore  up  the  garden  palings,  they  threw  down 
young  fruit-trees,  and  then  they  sang :  — 

"  '  I  *▼•  hooked  a  seaman  bold,  mother  1 ' 

*  Ah,  say'st  thoa  bo?  ' 

*  I 're  hooked  a  merchant'!  gold,  mother  I' 

'  Ah,  say'st  thon  bo?  ' 
'  Mother,  I  've  booked  our  parson's  sod  I  * 
'  'T  is  idly  done ! 
For  cling  and  clang, 
For  bing  and  bang; 
Beneath,  he'll  slip  thy  nose's  Up  I 
Thon  mayest  get  him  in  thy  net, 
But  not  on  board  thy  shipl  ' 

"  *  He 's  gone,  the  seaman  bold,  mother  I  * 

*  What  —  say'st  thon  so?  • 

'  'Tis  lost,  the  merchant's  gold,  mother  I ' 

'  What  —  say'st  thoa  so?  ' 
'  Mother,  the  parson's  son  has  fled  I  ' 
'  Ab,  BO  I  said  1 
For  cling  and  clang, 
For  bing  and  bang; 
I  knew  ho  'd  slip  thy  nose's  tip! 
Thon  mightest  get  him  in  thy  net, 
Bat  not  on  board  thy  ship! '  " 

There  was  a  general  shouting  for  Gunlaug, 
for  the  mob  especially  rejoiced  at  the  prospect 
of  hearing  the  outburst  of  her  peerless  wrath. 

Gunlaug,  indeed,  sat  within  and  heard  every 
word  ;  but  she  kept  silent.  One  must  be  able 
to  endure  much  for  the  sake  of  one's  child. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Pbtra  had  been  in  her  room  when  the 
shouting,  the  whistling,  the  hallooing  had  be- 
gun the  first  evening.  She  had  sprung  to  her 
feet  as  if  the  house  about  her  were  in  flames, 
or  eveiything  tumbling  to  ruin  over  her  head  • 
she  darted  round  her  chamber  like  one  lashed 
by  red-hot  scourges  :  they  smarted,  they  burned 
into  her  soul ;  her  thoughts  stormily  sought  a 
means  of  escape  ;  but  down  to  her  mother  she 
dared  not  go,  and  the  mob  was  swarming  in 
front  of  her  one  window.  Through  this  a  stone 
came  whizzing  and  fell  on  her  bed  ;  she  gave  a 
shriek,  and  rushing  into  a  corner  hid  herself 
behind  a  curtain,  among  her  old  clothes.  There 
she  cowered,  burning  with  shame,  trembling 
with  terror ;  visions  of  unknown  horrors  swept 
past  her;  the  air  was  full  of  faces,  gaping, 
leering  faces;  they  came  close  to  her,  they 
were  surrounded  by  fire.  Aha  I  here  was  no 
fire,  these  were  eyes,  it  was  raining  eyes,  large» 
glowing  eyes,  and  small,  twinkling  eyes  —  eyei 
that  stood  otill,  eyes  that  rolled  up  and  down. 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  191 

**  Lord,  Lord,  save  me !  " 

Oh,  what  relief  when  the  last  shout  died 
ftway  in  the  night,  and  all  was  dark  and  still 
again.  She  ventured  forth  from  her  hiding- 
place,  she  flung  herself  on  the  bed  and  hid  her 
face  in  the  pillows ;  but  from  her  thoughts 
there  was  no  escape.  In  them  her  mother  rose 
up  before  her,  menacing,  majestic,  like  storm- 
clouds  gathering  about  the  mountains ;  for 
what  must  not  her  mother  have  suffered  for 
her  sake  I  No  slumber  visited  her  eyelids,  nor 
peace  her  soul ;  and  day  came,  but  no  solace. 
She  walked  back  and  forth,  back  and  forth, 
thinking  only  of  how  she  could  flee;  but  she 
dared  not  meet  her  mother,  she  dared  not  go 
out  during  the  day-time,  and  the  evening  would 
bring  them  again  I  Still  she  must  wait ;  it 
would  be  even  more  dangerous  to  take  flight 
before  midnight.  And  where,  then  ?  She  had 
no  money,  she  knew  not  where  to  go;  but 
surely  there  must  be  merciful  people  some- 
where as  there  was  a  merciful  God.  He  knew 
that  however  she  might  have  erred  it  was  from 
no  actual  wickedness  ;  He  knew  her  penitence  ; 
He,  too,  knew  her  helplessness.  She  listened 
for  her  mother's  steps  below,  but  did  not  hear 
them  ;  she  trembled  at  thought  of  hearing  her 
on  the  stairs,  bat  she  did  not  come.     The  serv 


102  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

ant-girl  who  had  worked  there  must  have  run 
away,  for  no  one  brought  up  the  meals.  She 
dared  not  go  down  herself,  nor  venture  near 
the  window,  lest  there  might  be  some  one  out- 
side watching  for  her.  The  chill  air  rushed  in 
through  the  broken  window-pane  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  it  was  even  worse  when  evening  again 
set  in.  Petra  had  packed  up  a  small  bundle  of 
clothes,  and  had  dressed  herself  thoroughly 
that  she  might  be  all  ready  to  start.  But  she 
must  wait  the  pleasure  of  the  frantic  mob,  and 
endure  whatever  might  yet  be  in  store  for  her. 
There  they  were  again  I  The  whistling,  the 
shouting,  the  shower  of  stones  —  worse,  far 
worse  than  on  the  previous  evening.  She  crept 
into  her  comer,  clasped  her  hands,  and  prayed 
and  prayed.  If  only  her  mother  would  not  go 
out  to  them  I  If  they  would  only  not  break 
in  1  At  length  they  began  to  sing  —  it  was  a 
lampoon ;  and  although  every  word  cut  like  a 
knife,  she  could  not  help  listening  to  it.  But 
as  soon  as  she  understood  that  her  mother's 
name  was  mixed  up  in  it,  and  that  they  were 
guilty  of  so  shameful  an  injustice,  she  rose  and 
rushed  forward  ;  she  would  speak  out  her  mind 
to  this  pack  of  cowards,  or  cast  herself  down 
on  them  I  But  a  stone,  and  then  another,  and 
then  a  whole  hail-storm  of  stones  were  pelUni 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  103 

through  the  window,  pieces  of  glass  rattled, 
Btones  whirled  about  the  room,  and  she  crept 
back  to  her  corner.  The  sweat  rolled  from  her 
as  though  she  stood  in  the  hottest  sun  ;  but  she 
no  longer  wept,  she  was  no  longer  afraid. 

Gradually  the  tumult  subsided.  Petra  stole 
forth,  and  as  soon  as  the  last  sound  had  died 
away  she  ventured  to  the  window  to  look  out ; 
but  she  trod  on  bits  of  broken  glass  and  started 
back,  then  she  stepped  on  stones  and  stood 
still  that  she  might  not  be  heard  ;  for  now  was 
the  time  to  steal  away.  After  having  waited 
fully  half  an  hour,  she  drew  o£E  her  shoes  and 
taking  up  her  bundle,  softly  opened  the  door. 
Again  she  paused  about  five  minutes,. and  then 
went  quietly  down  the  stairs.  It  caused  lier 
deep  pain  to  go  from  the  mother  on  whom  she 
had  brought  all  this  sorrow,  without  taking 
leave  of  her ;  but  terror  hunted  her  onward. 

"  Farewell,  mother  1  Farewell,  mother ! " 
she  whispered  to  herself  with  every  step  she 
took  on  the  stairs.     "  Farewell,  mother  I  " 

She  reached  the  bottom,  panted  heavily  sev- 
eral times  for  breath,  then  moved  toward  the 
front  door.  As  she  reached  it  a  hand  seized 
her  from  behind ;  she  uttered  a  faint  cry  and 
turned.  There  stood  her  mother.  Gunlaug 
had  heard  her  daughter's  door  open,  knew  at 


104  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

once  what  she  was  about  to  do,  and  stood  wait 
ing  for  her.  Petra  felt  that  she  could  not  get 
past  her  without  a  struggle.  Explanations 
would  be  of  no  avail;  whatever  words  might 
come  to  her  aid,  nothing  would  be  believed 
Well  —  a  struggle  there  must  be  then.  Noth- 
ing in  the  world  could  be  worse  than  the  worst, 
and  that  she  had  been  through. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  the  mother  asked, 
softly. 

"  I  must  flee,"  Petra  answered  as  softly  and 
with  throbbing  heart. 

"  And  where  can  you  go?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  I  must  get  away  from 
here!" 

She  clasped  her  bundle  more  tightly  and 
pressed  on. 

"  No.  Come  along  with  me  I  "  replied  the 
mother,  holding  on  to  her  arm.  "  I  have  pro- 
vided for  everything." 

At  once  Petra  let  go  of  herself,  just  as  one 
relaxes  one's  hold  of  a  burden  that  has  grown 
too  heavy  ;  she  drew  a  long  breath,  as  though 
after  a  struggle,  and  resigned  herself  to  her 
mother.  Gunlaug  went  before  her  into  a  small 
closet  back  of  the  kitchen,  where  there  were  no 
windows,  and  where  burned  a  candle ;  it  was 
Here  she  had  hidden  herself  when  the  tumult 


THE  fisht<:r  maiden.  106 

ragod  withont.  The  closet  was  so  narrow  that 
they  could  scarcely  stir  in  it.  The  mother  pro- 
duced a  bundle  still  smaller  than  the  one  Petra 
carried,  opened  it,  and  drew  forth  a  suit  of 
sailor's  clothes. 

"  Put  these  on,"  she  whis^jered. 

Petra  immediately  understood  why  she  must 
do  so,  and  it  touched  her  that  her  mother  did  not 
mention  the  reason.  She  undressed  and  put  on 
the  sailor's  suit.  Her  mother  helped  her,  and  in 
so  doing  she  once  came  near  the  candle,  so  that 
Petra  saw  for  the  first  time  that  Gunlaug  was 
old.  Had  she  grown  so  during  these  last  days, 
or  had  Petra  never  noticed  it  before?  The 
laughter's  tears  rolled  down  on  the  mother, 
but  the  latter  did  not  look  up,  and  so  Petra 
found  no  words.  A  south-wester  was  the  last 
article  handed  her,  and  when  she  had  put  it  on, 
her  mother  took  her  bundle  from  her,  blew  out 
l.he  candle,  and  whispered,  — 

"  Come,  now  I " 

They  went  out  again  in  the  passage,  but  did 
not  go  through  the  front  door  ;  Gunlaug  opened 
the  door  to  the  yard  and  locked  it  again  after 
they  had  passed  out.  They  Ayalked  through 
the  tramplod-down  garden,  the  fallen  trees,  the 
broken  fence. 

"  You  may  as  well  look  about  you  now,"  said 


106  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

the  mother,  "it  is  scarcely  likely  you  will  evei 
come  here  again." 

Petra  shuddered  and  did  not  look  about  her. 
They  took  the  upper  road  along  the  forest, 
where  she  had  passed  half  her  life,  and  that 
evening  with  Gunnar,  those  with  Yngve  Void, 
and  the  last  with  Odegaard.  They  walked  on 
among  the  faded  foliage  that  was  beginning 
now  to  fall ;  the  night  air  was  cold,  and  Petra 
shivered  in  her  unaccustomed  attire.  Her 
mother  finally  turned  down  toward  a  garden. 
Petra  knew  it  at  once,  although  she  had  never 
seen  it  from  the  upper  side  since  that  day 
when,  as  a  child,  she  had  stormed  it.  It  was 
Pedro  Ohlsen's  garden.  The  mother  had  the 
key  to  it,  and  let  them  in. 

It  had  cost  Gunlaug  much  to  come  to  this 
man  in  the  forenoon  ;  it  cost  her  much  now,  too, 
to  come  with  this  ill-fated  daughter  to  whom 
she  could  no  longer  give  a  home.  But  it  had 
to  be  done ;  and  whatever  must  be  done,  Gun- 
laug could  do.  She  rapped  at  the  back-porch 
door,  and  almost  immediately  she  heard  steps 
and  saw  a  light.  Presently  the  door  was 
opened  by  Pedro,  who  stood  inside  in  traveling 
boots  and  traveling  dress,  pale  and  frightened. 
He  held  a  tallow  candle  in  his  hand,  and  sighed 
as  his  eyes   fell   on   Petra's   face,  which  was 


THE  FTSIIEB  MAIDEN.  107 

swollen  with  weepinj^.  The  girl  looked  up  at 
him  ;  but  as  he  did  not  venture  to  recognize  her, 
neither  did  she  dare  to  give  sign  of  recognition. 
"  This  man  has  promised  to  help  you  get 
away,"  said  the  mother,  without  looking  at 
either  of  them,  as  she  walked  up  the  few  steps 
to  the  passage,  and  passed  on  to  Pedro's  room 
on  the  other  side  of  the  house,  leaving  the 
others  to  follow  her.  The  room  was  small  and 
low,  and  a  peculiar,  close  odor  struck  them  as 
they  entered,  which  nauseated  Petra ;  she  had 
now  in  fact  been  more  than  twenty-four  hours 
without  either  eating  or  sleeping.  In  the  mid- 
dle of  the  room,  from  the  ceiling,  hung  a  cage 
with  a  canary-bird  in  it;  it  was  necessary  to 
walk  round  it  to  avoid  running  against  it.  The 
massive  old  chairs,  a  heavy  table,  a  couple  of 
large  presses,  such  as  are  used  by  the  peasants, 
that  towered  up  to  the  ceiling,  had  an  oppres- 
Eive  effect,  making  the  room  look  even  smaller 
than  it  was.  On  the  table  lay  some  sheets  of 
music  and  on  them  a  flute.  Pedro  Ohlsen 
shuffled  about  in  his  great  boots,  as  if  he  had 
something  to  do.  A  feeble  voice  from  the  back 
room  inquired :  "  Who  is  that  ?  Who  is  in 
there  ?  "  whereupon  he  moved  about  faster  than 
«ver,  mumbling :  "  Oh,  it  is  —  hem,  hem  —  it 
is  —  hem,  hem  I "  and  then  he  went  into  the 
••oom  where  the  voice  came  from. 


108  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

Gunlaug  sat  by  the  window  with  both  elbows 
on  her  knees,  her  head  bowed  in  her  hands, 
and  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  sand  that  was  strewed 
over  the  floor ;  she  spoke  not  a  word,  but  occa- 
sionally she  heaved  a  piteous  sigh.  Petra  stood 
by  the  door,  with  her  legs  crossed  and  her 
hands  pressej^  against  her  bosom,  for  she  felt 
sick.  An  old  clock  was  chopping  time  to  pieces, 
the  tallovv  caudle  on  the  table  had  burned  low, 
and  needed  snuffing  oii-^.ly.  At  length  the 
mother,  wishing  to  give  a  reason  for  their  being 
here,  said,  — 

"  I  once  knew  this  man." 

Not  another  word  did  she  speak  ;  l-liere  came 
no  reply.  Pedro  still  remained  absent,  the 
candle  ran  down  mournfully,  and  the  clock 
kept  chopping  away.  Petra  became  more  and 
more  overpowered  by  nausea,  and  through  it 
she  heai-d  incessantly  her  mother's  words :  "  I 
once  knew  this  man."  The  clock  took  them 
up  and  began  to  tick:  "I  —  once  —  knew  — 
this  —  man." 

In  after  years  whenever  Petra  was  met  by  a 
close  smell,  it  always  brought  back  to  her  that 
room,  with  a  recollection  of  that  faint,  sick  feel- 
ing and  the  clock's  "I  —  once  —  knew  —  this 
—  man."  She  never  came  on  board  ship,  to 
the  odor  of  oil  and  the  stench  of  foul  sea-water 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  109 

ander  the  cabin  floor,  to  the  smell  of  cooking, 
but  she  at  once  felt  sea-sick,  and  through  her 
distress  continually  by  night  and  by  day,  she 
saw  this  room  and  heard  the  clock's  "I  —  once 

—  knew  —  this  —  man." 

When  Pedro  came  in  agiiin,  he  had  on  a 
woolen  cap  and  an  old-fashioned  stiff  cloak, 
drawn  up  over  hia  ears. 

"  Well,  1  am  ready,"  said  he,  pulling  on  his 
mittens,  just  as  if  he  were  going  out  in  the 
middle  of  winter.     "  But  we  must  not  forget  " 

—  he  turned  round  —  "  the  cloak  for  —  for  "  — 
He  looked  at  Petra  and  from  her  to  Guiilaug, 
who  took  up  a  blue  overcoat  hanging  over  the 
back  of  a  chair  and  now  helped  Pd;ra  put  it 
on ;  but  when  it  came  under  the  girl's  nose  it 
smelled  so  strongly  of  the  odor  of  the  room  that 
she  begged  for  fresh  air.  Her  mother  saw  that 
she  felt  ill,  and,  opening  the  door,  led  her 
quickly  out  into  the  garden.  Here  she  drank 
in  long  draughts  of  the  pure,  fresh  autumnal 
night  air. 

"  Where  am  I  to  go  ?  "  she  asked,  as  she  be- 
gan to  revive. 

"  To  Bergen,"  answered  her  mother,  and  as- 
sisted her  to  button  the  coat.  "  It  is  a  large 
town,  where  no  one  knows  you."  When  she 
had  finished  she  stationed  herself  by  the  gate. 


110  THE  FISHER  MATOEN. 

"You  are  to  have  one  hundred  dollars  with 
you,"  said  she,  "  so  that  if  you  do  not  get  on 
well  you  may  have  something  in  reserve.  This 
man  loans  them  to  you  "  — 

"  Gives,  gives,"  whispered  Pedro,  brushing 
past  them  into  the  street. 

"  Loans  them  to  you,"  repeated  the  mother, 
just  as  though  he  had  not  spoken  ;  "  I  shall  pay 
him  back  again."  She  took  a  kerchief  from 
her  own  neck,  tied  it  about  her  daughter's,  and 
said,  — 

"  You  must  write  as  soon  as  you  are  doing 
well,  but  not  before." 

"  Mother !  " 

"  And  then  he  will  row  you  to  the  vessel 
that  is  lying  out  in  the  harbor." 

"  O  my  God  !     Mother  1  " 

"  Well,  I  think  there  is  nothing  more.  I  can 
go  no  farther." 

"Mother,  mother!" 

"  The  Lord  be  with  you  now  I     Farewell  I  " 

"  Mother,  forgive  me,  mother ! " 

"  And  do  not  take  cold  on  the  sea." 

She  had  drawn  her  daughter  gently  out  of 
the  garden  gate  and  now  closed  it. 

Petra  stood  motionless  outside,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  the  closed  gate.  She  felt  as  wretched  and 
lonely  as  it  is  possible  for  a  mortal  to  be.     But 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  Ill 

at  this  moment  there  darted  up  a  presentiment, 
a  faith,  out  of  exile,  injustice,  and  tears :  it  was 
like  a  flickering  fire,  now  kindled,  now  dying 
away,  at  one  moment  flaming  up  into  the  air, 
and  then  quite  sinking  away,  but  suddenly 
flashing  into  a  glorious  burst  of  splendor.  She 
raised  her  eyes,  and  once  more  profound  dark- 
ness surrounded  her. 

Through  the  deserted  street  of  the  little 
town,  past  the  shut-in,  leafless  gardens,  past 
the  closed  houses,  where  no  light  was  burning, 
silently  and  slowly,  she  walked  after  him,  whose 
slouching  form,  in  big  boots  and  cloak  that 
made  it  seem  headless,  dragged  wearily  along. 
They  came  out  into  the  avenue,  'where  once 
more  they  trod  on  withered  leaves  and  saw  the 
spectre-like,  upward-stretched  boughs,  with  ex- 
tended fingers  clutching  at  them.  They  crept 
down  the  hill-side  behind  the  yellow  shed  where 
the  boat  was  kept ;  he  at  once  began  bailing  out 
the  water,  then  rpwed  her  out  from  the  shore, 
which  soon  shrank  into  a  black  mass,  over  which 
darkly  lowered  the  sky.  Fields,  houses,  forest, 
mountain,  all  were  wiped  out;  nothing  could 
she  now  distinguish  of  all  that  had  been  famil- 
iar to  her  from  childhood  up  until  yesterday : 
it  had  shut  itself  in  from  her  as  had  the  town, 
the  people,  that  night  when  she  was  made  an 


112  THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN. 

outcast  from  them,  and  there  was  none  to  bid 
her  farewell. 

On  the  deck  of  the  ship  that  was  anchored 
close  to  shore,  waiting  the  morning  breeze,  a 
man  was  pacing  up  and  down.  As  soon  as  he 
perceived  them  beneath  the  quarter,  he  lowered 
a  ladder,  helped  them  on  board,  and  gave  notice 
to  the  captain,  who  promptly  appeared  on  deck. 
She  knew  them,  and  they  knew  her ;  but  there 
were  no  questions,  no  signs  of  sympathy.  Sim- 
ply as  a  matter  of  course  she  was  told  where 
her  berth  was,  and  what  she  was  to  do  if  she 
needed  anything,  or  should  be  sick.  The  latter 
she  was  indeed  the  moment  she  went  down  in 
the  cabin,  and  so  as  soon  as  she  had  changed 
her  clothes  she  went  on  deck  again.  A  famil- 
iar odor  greeted  her  —  ah!  it  was  chocolate, 
and  she  was  seized  with  an  overpowering  hun- 
ger, which  tore  and  raged  through  her,  and 
then  the  same  man  who  had  received  them 
came  forth  from  the  cook-room  bearing  a  whole 
bowl  full  of  chocolate  and  some  cakes.  They 
came  from  her  mother,  he  said.  While  she 
was  eating  he  furthermore  informed  her  that 
her  mother  had  sent  a  chest  on  board,  contain- 
ing her  best  clothes,  with  her  linen  and  woolen 
garments,  besides  food  and  other  good  things. 
At  this  moment  there  rose  within  her  a  vivid 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  113 

remembrance  of  her  mother,  a  sublime  picture, 
Buch  as  she  had  never  had  before,  but  which 
she  would  retain  through  her  whole  future  life. 
And  in  the  presence  of  this  image,  sorrowfully 
and  prayerfully,  she  made  a  solemn  vow  that 
she  would  one  day  give  her  mother  some  joy  as 
a  compensation  for  the  sorrow  she  had  now 
brought  on  her. 

Pedro  Ohlsen  sat  beside  her  when  she  sat 
down,  and  walked  beside  her  when  she  walked, 
always  endeavoring  to  keep  out  of  her  way,  and 
in  so  doing  getting  continually  in  her  way  on 
the  deck  that  was  crowded  with  bales  of  goods. 
She  saw  nothing  of  his  face  except  his  large 
nose  and  his  eyes,  and  these  not  very  distinctly ; 
but  he  gave  her  the  impression  of  being  weighed 
down  with  something  he  wanted  to  say,  but 
dared  not.  He  sighed,  he  sat  down,  he  got  up, 
he  walked  round  her,  sat  down  again,  but  not 
a  word  could  he  command  ;  nor  did  she  speak. 
Finally  he  was  compelled  to  give  it  up,  and  de- 
jectedly producing  a  huge  leather  pocket-book 
he  whispered  that  in  it  she  would  find  the  one 
hundred  dollars  —  and  a  little  more.  She  held 
out  her  hand  and  thanked  him,  coming  so  close 
to  his  face  in  so  doing  that  she  saw  his  eyes, 
fixed  on  hers,  glistening  with  tears.  With  her 
the  last  remaining  spark  of  life  was  passing 
8 


114  THE   FISHER    MAmEN. 

away  from  his  languishing  existence.  Gladly 
would  he  have  told  her  something  which  might 
perchance  call  up  some  loving  thought  when  he 
was  no  more ;  but  he  was  forbidden  to  do  so, 
and  although  he  would  have  spoken  notwith- 
standing this,  he  could  not  muster  the  courage, 
nor  did  she  give  him  any  assistance.  Petra 
was  indeed  too  weary,  and  the  thought  that  it 
was  he  who  had  caused  her  to  commit  that  first 
sin  against  her  mother  would  not  just  now  leave 
her.  His  presence  wore  on  her,  and  this  grew 
worse  instead  of  better  the  longer  he  sat  there ; 
for  when  we  are  tired  we  are  apt  to  be  irrita- 
ble. The  poor  man  felt  this ;  he  said  he  sup- 
posed he  must  go,  and  then  finally  he  brought 
himself  to  whisper,  "  Farewell ! "  drawing  one 
of  his  withered  hands  out  of  the  mitten  as  he 
did  so.  She  placed  in  it  her  warm  hand  ;  they 
both  rose. 

"  Thank  you  —  and  bear  greetings  from  me  I " 
said  she. 

He  heaved  a  sigh,  or  rather  made  a  gur- 
gling sound,  which  was  repeated  several  times, 
dropped  her  hand,  turned,  and  quietly  backed 
down  the  ship's  ladder.  She  walked  to  the 
gunwale;  he  looked  up  as  she  reached  it, 
greeted  her,  took  his  place  in  the  boat  and 
rowed  away.     She  stood  watching  him  until  he 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  116 

became  lost  in  the  dark.  When  she  went 
down  to  the  cabin  again  she  was  so  weary  she 
could  scarcely  stand,  and  although  she  felt  sick 
the  moment  she  got  down  there,  she  had  no 
sooner  laid  her  head  on  the  pillow  and  said  the 
first  two  or  three  petitions  of  the  Lord's  Prayer 
than  she  fell  asleep. 

Meanwhile  the  mother  was  sitting  up  by  the 
yellow  boat-house ;  she  had  followed  them 
slowly  the  whole  distance,  and  had  sat  down 
there  just  as  they  had  pushed  from  the  shore. 
From  the  same  spot  Pedro  Ohlsen,  in  days  of 
yore,  had  gone  out  in  the  boat  with  her  ;  it  was 
a  long,  long  time  ago,  but  she  remenabered  it 
well  as  he  rowed  away  with  her  daughter. 

As  soon  as  she  saw  him  coming  back  alone 
she  rose  and  moved  away ;  for  now  she  knew 
that  her  daughter  was  safely  on  board  the  ship. 
She  did  not  take  the  way  home,  but  went  far- 
ther onward ;  in  the  dark  she  found  the  path 
leading  over  the  mountains,  and  this  she  took. 
Her  house  in  town  stood  empty  and  shattered 
for  more  than  a  month ;  she  felt  that  she  could 
not  return  to  it  before  she  had  received  a  cheer- 
ing letter  fiom  her  daughter. 

But  in  the  mean  time  there  was  an  opportu- 
Dity  of  testing  the  popular  feeling  toward  her. 


116  THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN. 

All  low  natures  take  passionate  delight  in  unit- 
ing to  persecute  the  stronger,  but  only  as  long 
as  these  offer  resistance;  when  they  see  their 
victims  calmly  submitting  to  ill-treatment  a 
sense  of  shame  overcomes  them,  and  they  hiss 
at  whoever  would  cast  another  stone.  People 
had  rejoiced  at  t^ie  thought  of  hearing  Gunlaug's 
powerful  voice  raging  through  HoUoway  Street ; 
they  had  fancied  her  calling  the  sailors  to  her 
aid  and  challenging  a  street  fight.  When  she 
still  failed  to  appear  on  the  third  evening,  the 
people  were  scarcely  to  be  controlled ;  they 
wanted  to  go  in  after  her ;  they  wanted  to  cast 
the  two  women  out  in  the  street ;  pursue  them 
out  of  the  town ;  drive  them  away.  The  win- 
dows had  not  been  repaired  since  the  preceding 
night ;  accompanied  by  the  hurrahs  of  the  mob 
two  men  crept  through  them  in  order  to  open 
the  door  —  and  in  stormed  the  riotous  multi- 
tude !  They  searched  through  every  room,  up- 
stairs and  down  ;  they  burst  the  doors ;  they 
dashed  to  pieces  everything  that  stood  in  their 
way ;  they  hunted  in  every  corner,  even  in  the 
cellar  at  last,  after  mother  and  daughter ;  but 
not  a  living  soul  was  to  be  found.  For  a  mo- 
ment all  was  still ;  those  who  were  inside  came 
out,  one  by  one,  and  stole  away  behind  the  rest. 
In  a  very  little  while  the  yard  in  front  of  fch« 
house  was  deserted. 


tbe  fisher  maiden.  117 

Soon  there  were  those  in  the  town  who  pro- 
nounced this  conduct  toward  two  defenseless 
women  most  unseemly. 

The  matter  was  talked  over  until  all  agreed 
that  whatever  the  fisher  maiden  might  have 
been  guilty  of,  Gunlaug  was  not  to  blame  for 
it,  and  therefore  great  injustice  had  been  done 
her.  She  was  sadly  missed  in  the  town ; 
drunken  brawls  and  riots  began  to  be  the  order 
of  the  day ;  for  the  town  had  actually  lost  its 
police.  Her  commanding  form  in  the  doorway 
was  missed  by  passers-by ;  the  seamen  in  espe- 
cial missed  her.  No  house  was  like  hers,  they 
said,  for  there  every  one  was  dealt  with  accord- 
ing to  bis  deserts;  each  had  his  proper  place 
in  her  confidence,  and  her  help,  whatever  might 
happen.  Neither  sailors  nor  skippers,  neither 
employers  nor  housewives  had  realized  Iier 
worth  until  now  that  she  was  gone. 

And  so  a  message  of  joy  spread  through  the 
whole  town  when  it  became  known  that  she 
had  been  seen  in  her  house  baking  and  cook- 
ing as  before.  Every  one  was  compelled  to  go 
there  for  himself  in  order  to  be  assured  that  the 
panes  had  been  replaced,  the  door  repaired,  and 
that  smoke  was  curling  up  from  the  chimney. 
Yes,  the  report  was  really  true.  Gunlaug  hacj 
actually  returned ! 


118  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

People  crept  up  on  the  opposite  side  of  Hoi- 
loway  Street  that  they  might  see  better.  There 
she  sat  in  front  of  the  bread  griddle;  she 
neither  looked  up  nor  out,  her  eye  followed  her 
hand  and  her  hand  was  working ;  for  she  had 
come  back  to  redeem  her  losses  and  first  of  all 
to  pay  from  her  earnings  the  one  hundred  dol- 
lars she  owed  Pedro  Ohlsen.  In  the  beginning 
people  contented  themselves  with  merely  look- 
ing in  on  her ;  but  for  a  long  time  evil  con- 
sciences deterred  them  all  from  entering.  Grad- 
ually, however,  they  came,  —  first  the  mothers 
of  households,  good,  friendly  souls ;  but  they 
found  no  opportunity  to  talk  with  her  of  any- 
thing but  business,  for  Gunlaug  would  listen  to 
nothing  else.  Next  came  the  fishermen,  then 
the  merchants  and  the  skippers  to  hire  people 
to  work  for  them  and  to  make  inquiries  in  re- 
gard to  the  character  of  those  seeking  employ- 
ment, and  finally,  on  the  first  Sunday  after  her 
return,  the  sailors  appeared.  There  must  have 
been  some  agreement  among  them,  because,  as 
the  evening  wore  on,  the  house  became  sud- 
denly so  crowded  that  not  only  were  both  the 
principal  rooms  overflowing,  but  the  chairs  and 
tables,  which  in  the  summer  time  stood  in  the 
garden,  had  to  be  brought  out  and  set  up  in  the 
passage,  in  the  kitchen,  and  in  the  back  cham 


THE   FISHER   MAmEN.  119 

ber.  No  one,  in  casting  an  eye  over  this  assem- 
blage,  could  form  the  least  idea  of  the  feelings 
of  these  people  who  wore  sitting  together  ;  for 
Gunlaug  had  resumed  her  silent  sway  the  mo- 
ment they  had  crossed  her  threshold,  and  the 
stem  dignity  with  which  she  waited  on  each 
checked  every  effort  at  welcome,  every  ques- 
tion. She  was  the  same  as  of  old,  except  that 
her  hair  was  no  longer  black  and  that  her  man- 
ner had  become  somewhat  subdued.  But  when 
the  sailors  began  to  grow  merry,  they  could  no 
longer  restrain  themselves,  and  every  time  she 
and  the  servant  girl  went  out  Knud,  the  boat- 
swain, who  had  always  been  her  favorite,  was 
called  on  to  drink  her  health  when  she  came  in 
again.  But  courage  failed  even  him  until  his 
head  was  pretty  well  heated,  and  when  finally 
she  came  to  collect  the  empty  flasks  and  glasses, 
he  rose  and  said,  "  that  it  was  a  good  thing  she 
was  back  again.  For  it  was  most  certainly 
true  that  —  that  it  was  a  good  thing  she  was 
back  again." 

This  seemed  to  the  others  well  spoken  ;  they, 
too,  rose  to  their  feet,  and  shouted,  "  Yes,  it 
was  a  good  thing !  "  and  those  in  the  passage 
and  those  in  the  kitchen  and  those  in  the  next 
room  sprang  up  also,  and  pressing  forward 
echoed  what  had  been  said,  while  the  boat- 


120  THE  FISHER  MAmEM. 

Bwain,  handing  her  a  glass,  cried,  "  Hurrah  !  " 
and  then  several  cried,  "  Hurrah ! "  until  it 
seemed  as  if  the  roof  might  be  lifted  and  sent 
sailing  upward  to  the  skies. 

By  and  by  some  one  declared  that  shameful 
injustice  had  been  done  her ;  then  another 
swore  the  same,  and  soon  the  whole  house 
swore  and  protested  that  they  had  done  her 
the  most  shameful  injustice.  When  finally 
there  came  a  lull,  because  a  word  from  her  was 
eagerly  desired,  Gunlaug  said  that  they  must 
all  accept  many  thanks. 

"  But,"  added  she,  continuing  to  gather  up 
the  empty  glasses  and  flasks,  "as  long  as  1 
have  said  nothing  about  the  matter,  it  is  unnec- 
essary for  you  to  bring  it  up." 

She  here  left  the  room,  as  she  had  collected 
all  she  could  carry,  and  presently  returned  for 
the  rest.  From  this  time  forth  her  power  was 
supreme. 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

In  the  darkness  of  night  the  vessel  cast  an- 
ehor  in  the  harbor  of  Bergen.  Half  bewildered 
from  sea-sickness,  Petra  was  taken  in  the  cap- 
tain's boat  through  a  multiplicity  of  vessels, 
large  and  small,  up  to  the  throng  of  ferrymen 
on  the  wharves  and  of  peasants  and  street-boys 
in  the  naiTow  by-ways  through  which  their  way 
led.  They  halted  in  front  of  a  neat  little  cot- 
tage, where  an  old  woman,  at  the  'captain's  re- 
quest, cordially  received  her.  She  craved  food 
and  sleep,  and  had  both  wants  satisfied.  She 
awoke  at  noon  the  next  day,  refreshed  and 
bright,  to  new  sounds  and  an  unfamiliar  accent, 
and  when  the  curtains  were  up,  to  a  new  sur- 
rounding nature,  to  strange  faces  and  a  strange 
town.  She  herself  had  become  a  new  person, 
she  thought,  as  she  paused  before  the  glass  — 
this  face  was  not  the  old  familiar  one.  She 
could  not  well  define  the  difference,  not  under- 
standing that  at  her  age  any  great  sorrow  and 
shock  refines  and  spiritualizes  ;  yet  at  sight  of 
herself  in  the  glass  she  was  forced  to  recall  the 


122  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

past  nights,  and  as  she  did  she  shuddered.  So 
Bhe  hastened  to  get  ready  to  go  down-stairs  to  all 
the  new  surroundings  that  awaited  her.  She 
met  her  hostess  and  several  ladies  who  first  sur- 
veyed her  from  head  to  foot  and  then  promised 
to  interest  themselves  in  her  behalf ;  as  a  begin- 
ning they  offered  to  show  her  round  the  city. 
She  desired  to  make  a  number  of  purchases, 
and  so  she  ran  up-stairs  again  after  her  pocket- 
book  ;  but  it  seemed  so  thick  and  clumsy  that, 
feeling  ashamed  to  carry  it  down-stairs  with 
her,  she  opened  it  in  her  room  to  take  out  the 
money.  Instead  of  one  hundred  dollars,  she 
found  three  hundred.  Thus  Pedro  Ohlsen  had 
again  given  her  money  contrary  to  her  mother's 
knowledge  and  consent.  So  little  comprehen- 
sion had  she  of  its  value,  though,  that  the 
amount  of  the  sum  did  not  astonish  her ;  and 
so  it  did  not  occur  to  her  to  reflect  on  the  cause 
of  his  great  liberality.  Instead  of  a  communi- 
cation overflowing  with  joy  and  inquiries  indi- 
3ating  a  suspicion  of  the  truth,  Pedro  Ohlsen 
received  from  Gunlaug  a  letter  written  to  her 
self,  in  which  her  daughter  with  ill-concealed 
vexation  betrayed  her  benefactor  and  asked 
what  she  was  to  do  with  this  smuggled  gift. 

What  first  strongly  impressed  Petra  was  the 
natural  scenery  of  the  town.     She  could  not 


^'HE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  1S8 

get  clear  ol  the  teeling  that  the  mountain  was 
BO  near  her  that  uiio  must  beware  of  it.  A 
sense  of  oppreasion  came  over  her  whenever  she 
raised  her  eyes,  and  at  the  same  time  she  felt 
an  impolse  to  stretch  forth  her  hand  and  knock 
to  gain  admission.  There  were  moments,  on 
the  contrary,  when  it  seemed  to  her  that  she 
could  find  no  possible  outlet.  Sun-forsaken 
and  gloomy  stood  the  mountain ;  dense  clouds 
hung  above  it  or  were  driven  over  it ;  there  was 
an  incessant  alternation  of  wind  and  rain  com- 
ing from  the  mountain  and  sent  by  the  mount- 
ain upon  the  town.  There  was  no  gloom,  how- 
ever, over  the  people  around  her.  Soon  she 
felt  happy  among  them,  for  in  their  bustling 
activity  there  was  a  freedom,  an  ease,  a  cheer- 
fulness, she  had  never  known,  and  which,  after 
what  she  had  experienced,  affected  her  like  a 
smile  of  welcome.  When  at  dinner  the  next 
day  she  remarked  that  she  liked  best  to  be 
where  there  were  many  people,  she  was  told 
that  if  that  were  the  case  she  should  go  to  the 
theatre,  where,  in  a  single  building,  she  would 
find  hundreds  of  people.  She  thought  she 
would  like  that,  so  i  ticket  was  bought,  and  at 
the  appointed  hour  she  was  taken  to  the  thea- 
tre, which  was  close  by,  and  was  shown  to  a 
seat  in  the  front  row  in  the  balcony.     She  sat 


124  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

in  a  dazzling  blaze  of  light,  among  many  liun- 
dred  bright-faced  people,  and  surrounded  by 
gay  colors  and  a  buzz  of  voices  that  smote  on 
her  ear  from  every  direction,  rushing  toward 
her  like  the  roaring  of  the  mighty  ocean. 

Petra  had  not  the  faintest  conception  of  what 
she  was  to  see  here.  She  knew,  indeed,  noth- 
ing but  what  Odegaard  had  taught  her,  and 
what  she  had  learned  from  chance  acquaint- 
ances. About  the  theatre,  however,  Odegaard 
had  never  told  her  a  word;  the  sailors  had 
spoken  of  a  theatre  where  there  were  wild 
beasts  and  equestrian  performers,  and  it  would 
never  have  occurred  to  the  boys  to  speak  of 
a  play  even  if  they  had  learned  about  it  at 
Bchool;  the  little  town  had  no  theatre,  not 
even  a  house  called  by  that  name;  traveling 
beast-tamers,  rope-dancers,  and  clowns  were  in 
the  habit  of  exhibiting  either  in  some  seaman's 
warehouse  or  in  the  open  commons.  She  was 
BO  ignorant  that  she  did  not  even  know  what  to 
ask;  she  sat  there  in  high  spirits  waiting  for 
the  appearance  of  curiosities,  such  as  camels  or 
monkeys.  Filled  with  this  idea  she  came  grad- 
ually to  see  animals  in  every  face  about  her,  — 
horses,  dogs,  foxes,  cats,  mice,  —  and  it  amused 
her.  Thus  the  orchestra  assembled  without 
hei  noticing  it.     She  started  up  in  alarm,  fo? 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  126 

with  abrupt  bewildering  crash  of  kettle-drums, 
drams,  bassoons,  and  boms,  the  overture  be- 
gan. In  her  whole  life  she  had  never  heard 
more  than  a  couple  of  violins,  and  perchance  a 
flute,  played  at  one  time.  'Ihe  stormy  grand- 
eur of  tone  that  now  smote  on  her  ear  made 
her  turn  pale,  so  like  it  was  to  the  cold,  black 
billow  that  breaks  on  the  sea.  She  sat  lost  in 
terror  lest  the  next  burst  should  be  even  more 
exciting ;  and  yet  she  would  have  been  loath  to 
have  the  music  cease.  Soon  gentler  harmonies 
brought  light,  revealing  vistas  never  dreamed 
of  before,  and  toward  these  she  was  softly 
rocked  by  sweet  melodies.  Sportjve  life  filled 
the  air  about  her  ;  a  radiant  throng  was  soaring 
upward  with  vigorous  pinion  strokes,  and  now 
it  softly  descended,  majestically  congregated 
together  only  to  break  apart  in  frolicsome  gay- 
ety,  until  the  pall  of  darkness  descended,  and 
all  seemed  to  be  whirled  away  in  the  boom  of 
a  great  cataract.  Then,  above  the  din  and  roar 
rose  a  single  strain,  as  from  a  bird  on  a  bough 
wet  by  the  spray  from  the  depths  below. 
Sadly,  timidly,  the  song  began,  but  the  atmos- 
phere above  was  purified  thereby,  the  sun 
peeped  forth,  and  once  more  the  long  blue  vis- 
tas  were  filled  with  those  marvelous  fluttering, 
floating  visions  she  had  s^en  before.     This  had 


126  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

lasted  but  a  brief  period  when,  lo  I  it  sub- 
sided into  gentle  peace,  the  exultant  hosts 
passed  farther  and  farther  away,  naught  was 
visible  save  the  sunbeams  which  were  diffused 
through  the  air ;  above  this  infinite  waste  the 
sun  alone  held  sway,  calmly  weaving  its  meshes 
of  light  over  the  scene,  and  amidst  all  this 
glory  Petra  sat  dreaming.  She  involuntarily 
rose  when  the  music  ceased ;  for  now  the  spell 
was  broken.  Ah,  how  wonderful  I  At  that 
moment  the  beautiful  painted  curtain,  right  in 
front  of  her,  went  all  the  way  up  to  the  ceiling  I 
She  was  in  a  church,  a  church  with  arches  and 
pillars,  a  church  filled  with  the  swelling  tones 
of  an  organ,  and  solemn  grandeur,  and  people 
advanced  toward  her  in  costumes  unknown  to 
her,  and  they  spoke,  yes,  they  were  talking  in 
church,  and  in  a  language  she  did  not  under- 
stand. But  how  was  this  ?  They  were  talk- 
ing behind  her,  too. 

"  Sit  down  I  "  said  they ;  but  there  were  no 
seats  in  the  church,  so  of  course  the  two  people 
she  saw  there  remained  standing  as  well  as  she, 
and  the  longer  she  looked  at  them  the  clearer 
it  became  to  her  that  these  costumes  were  the 
same  she  had  seen  in  a  picture  of  Olaf  the 
Saint — and  there,  they  were  actually  mention* 
ing  St.  Olaf  s  name. 


THE  FISHES  MAIDEN.  127 

"  Sit  down  !  "  she  again  heard  behind  her  ; 
*  sit  down  I "  exclaimed  several  Toices. 

"There  is,  perhaps,  something  to  be  seen 
back  there,  too,"  thought  Petra,  and  turned 
quickly. 

A  multitude  of  angry  faces,  some  actually 
threatening,  met  hers. 

"There  must  be  something  amiss  here,** 
thought  Petra,  and  she  was  about  to  leave,  but 
an  old  lady  who  sat  beside  her  gently  pulled 
her  dress. 

"  Why  do  you  not  sit  down,  then,  child  ?  " 
whispered  she.  "  The  people  behind  us  oannot 
see. 

In  an  instant  Petra  was  in  her  seat.  *'  Why, 
of  course,  it  is  the  theatre  in  there,  and  we  are 
looking  on  —  yes,  to  be  sure,  it  is  the  theatre  I  " 
and  she  kept  repeating  the  word  to  impress  it 
fully  on  her  mind. 

Once  more  she  gazed  into  the  church,  but  in 
spite  of  every  effort  she  failed  to  understand 
him  who  was  speaking  there.  Not  until  she 
had  fully  comprehended  that  he  was  a  hand- 
some young  man  did  she  here  and  there  gather 
the  import  of  his  words  and  when  she  found 
that  he  was  speaking  of  love  and  was  himself 
in  love,  she  understood  almost  everything  he 
said.     Her  attention  was  suddenly  drawn  from 


l^  TtiE  FISHER   MAIDEK. 

him  by  the  entrance  of  a  third,  whom  she 
knew,  from  pictures  she  had  seen,  mast  be  a 
monk,  and  she  had  longed  very  much  to  see  a 
monk.  How  softly  he  stepped  about,  and  how 
quiet  he  was  I  He  seemed,  indeed,  to  be  a 
pious  man,  and  he  spoke  so  distinctly  and 
slowly  that  Petra  could  follow  every  word. 
But  suddenly  he  turns  and  says  just  the  oppo- 
site of  what  he  has  been  saying.  Good  heav- 
ens I  this  is  a  villain  I  Listen,  he  is  a  villain  I 
Even  his  face  shows  plainly  that  he  is  one  ! 
Why  cannot  that  handsome  young  man  dis- 
cover it  ?  He  surely  must  have  heard  what  he 
said  I 

"  He  is  deceiving  you  I  "  she  whispered,  half 
aloud. 

"  Hush  I  '*  said  the  old  lady. 

Ah  I  the  young  man  did  not  hear ;  in  his 
perilous  trust  he  leaves  the  church.  They  all 
withdraw,  and  presently  an  old  man  enters. 
Why,  how  is  this  ?  When  the  old  man  speaks, 
it  seems  as  if  the  young  man  was  speaking, 
^nd  yet  this  surely  is  an  old  man.  But  look  ! 
look !  A  shining  procession  of  white-clad 
maidens,  walking  two  and  two,  are  passing 
noiselessly  and  slowly  through  the  church.  Pe- 
tra saw  them  long  after  they  had  gone,  and 
before  her  mind's  eye  floated  a  similar  memorj 


THE   FISHER  MAIDEN.  129 

from  her  childhood.  She  had  gone  with  her 
mother  across  the  mountains  one  winter :  as 
they  wiided  along  through  the  new-falleu  snow, 
they  inadvertently  startled  a  brood  of  ptarmi- 
gans, who  suddenly  filled  the  air  before  them  ; 
they  were  white ;  white  was  the  snow  ;  the  for- 
est was  white  —  for  a  long  time  afterward  all 
her  visions  were  white.  So,  too,  it  was  now  for 
a  while. 

But  now  one  of  these  white-robed  women 
advances,  rosary  in  hand,  and  kneels  ;  the  old 
man,  too,  has  knelt  down,  and  she  speaks  to 
him.  He  bears  her  a  message  and  a  letter 
from  foreign  lands.  He  hands  her  the  letter, 
and  it  is  quite  evident  that  it  is  f rom<  some  one 
very  dear  to  her.  Ah,  how  delightful  this  is  I 
They  all  love  one  another  here  !  She  opens  it ; 
why,  it  is  no  letter  —  it  is  full  of  music  I  But 
see,  ah,  see  I  he  is  himself  the  letter.  The  old 
man  is  the  young  one,  and  it  is  he  whom  she 
loves.  They  embrace.  Good  heavens  I  they 
kiss  I  Petra  felt  herself  growing  fiery  red,  and 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands,  while  she  listened 
further.  Hark  I  he  is  telling  her  that  they 
must  marry  immediately,  and  she  pulls  his 
beard,  laughing,  and  saying  he  has  become  a 
barbarian,  and  he  tells  her  how  beautiful  she 
kas  become.    He  gives  her  a  ring,  and  he  prom- 


180  THE  FISU£B  MAIDEN. 

ises  her  robes  of  scarlet  and  velvet,  golden 
shoes,  and  a  girdle  of  gold ;  then  merrily  tak- 
ing leave,  he  goes  to  the  king  to  speak  of  the 
wedding.  His  bride  gazes  after  him,  with 
beaming  face ;  but  when  she  turns,  the  place 
seems  empty  without  him. 

Then  swiftly  the  wall  glides  down  again. 
Can  it  be  over  now  ?  Why,  it  seemed  to  be 
only  just  beginning  I  Blushing  deeply,  Petra 
turned  to  the  old  lady  and  inquired,  — 

"Is  it  over?" 

"No,  no,  child;  this  is  only  the  first  act 
There  are  five  such,  yes,  there  are,  indeed,"  she 
repeated,  with  a  sigh ;  "  there  are  five  of  them." 

"  About  the  same  ?  "  asked  Petra. 

"  What  you  mean  by  that?  " 

"  Do  the  same  people  come  back  again,  and 
does  it  all  go  on  ?  " 

"  Have  you  never  seen  a  play  before  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure,  I  suppose  there  are  many 
places  where  there  is  no  theatre ;  it  is  so  ex- 
pensive." 

"  But  what  is  it  all  ?  "  asked  Petra,  staring 
with  anxious  eagerness,  as  if  she  could  not  wait 
for  an  answer.     "  Who  are  these  people  ?  " 

"  This  is  a  company  belonging  to  Managei 
Naso,  a  first-class  company ;  he  is  so  clever." 


THE   FISHEB  MAIDEN.  131 

*'  Is  it  he  who  makes  it  all  np  ?  Or,  what  is 
it  ?     For  pity's  sake,  answer  me  !  " 

"  Dear  child,  do  you  not  know  what  a  play 
is  ?     Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

But  when  Petra  thought  of  her  birthplace, 
she  recalled  also  her  shame  and  her  flight,  and 
she  relapsed  into  silence,  not  daring  to  ask  any 
more  questions. 

The  second  act  came,  and  with  it  the  king. 
Yes,  truly  this  was  the  king ;  her  eyes  really 
beheld  a  monarch  I  She  heard  not  what  he 
said,  she  saw  not  with  whom  he  spoke  ;  she 
only  looked  at  his  kingly  attire,  his  kingly  de- 
meanor, his  kingly  gestures.  She  was  first 
roused  from  her  absorption  when  the  young 
man  entered ;  and  then  they  all  started  off 
after  the  bride.  Now  she  was  forced  to  wait 
again. 

During  the  interlude  the  old  lady  leaned 
over  to  her.  "Do  you  not  think  the  actijig 
very  fine  ?  "  said  she. 

"  Acting  —  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 
and  Petra  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

She  did  not  notice  that  every  one  round 
about  was  staring  at  her,  and  that  the  old  lady 
was  urged  on  by  the  others  to  question  her; 
she  did  not  hear  that  they  were  all  laughing  at 
her. 


1S2  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

"  They  do  not  speak  as  we  do  I "  said  she, 
receiving  no  answer. 

"Why,  they  are  Danes,"  replied  the  old 
lady,  also  beginning  to  laugh. 

Then  it  dawned  on  Petra  that  the  good  lady 
was  laughing  at  her  many  queries ;  and  she 
Baid  no  more,  but  sat  with  her  eyes  fixed  in- 
tently on  the  curtain. 

When  it  rose  again,  she  had  the  great  de- 
light of  seeing  an  archbishop.  It  was  as  be- 
fore; she  became  so  lost  in  the  sight  of  him 
that  she  heard  not  a  word  that  he  uttered. 
Then  the  sound  of  music  reached  her,  —  ah,  so 
hushed,  so  far  distant !  but  it  came  nearer  and 
nearer ;  it  was  a  chorus  of  women's  voices,  ac- 
companied by  flutes  and  violins  and  an  instru- 
ment that  was  not  a  guitar,  and  yet  like  many 
guitars,  only  softer,  richer,  more  vibrating  in 
tone.  The  harmony  of  the  whole  streamed 
toward  her  in  long  waves  of  sound,  and  when 
it  all  had  become  transformed  into  undulating 
colors,  the  procession  swept  in ;  soldiers  with 
halberds,  choristers  with  censers,  monks  bear- 
ing tapers,  a  crowned  king,  and  at  his  side  the 
bridegroom,  clad  in  white.  Then  came  once 
more  the  white-robed  women,  strewing  roses 
ind  music  before  the  bride,  who  was  attired  in 
white  silk  and  wore  a  red  wreath  in  her  hair 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEH.  188 

At  her  aide  walked  a  tall,  stately  woman,  in  a 
purple  robe  with  a  long  train,  dotted  with 
crowns  of  gold,  and  with  a  small  glittering 
crown  on  her  head.  This  must  be  the  queen  I 
The  whole  church  was  flooded  with  music  an«l 
rich  coloring,  and  everything  which  now  took 
place  from  the  moment  the  brid^room  led  the 
bride  to  the  altar  where  they  knelt,  while 
their  followers  knelt  about  them,  until  the 
archbishop  came  up  with  his  train  of  crusaders, 
was  but  as  new  links  in  the  many-hued  chain 
of  tones. 

But  now,  just  as  the  ceremony  was  about  to 
begin,  the  archbishop  held  aloft  his  crosier  and 
forbade  it :  their  marriage  was  contrtiry  to  the 
laws  of  God ;  never  in  this  life  could  they  be 
imited !  O  Heavenly  Father,  have  mercy  I  The 
bride  swooned  away,  and  Petra,  too,  who  had 
risen  to  her  feet,  fell  with  a  piercing  shriek. 

"  Water  I  Bring  water  here  I  "  voices  about 
her  cried. 

"No,"  said  the  old  lady,  in  reply.  "She 
has  not  fainted ;  it  is  not  necessary." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  was  echoed  around 
*»  Silence." 

**  Silence  I "  was  shouted  from  the  parquet 
•*  Silence  in  the  oalcony  I  " 

**  Hush  ! "  was  answered  from  the  balcony. 


134  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

"You  must  not  take  it  so  to  heart ;  it  is  aL 
romance  and  nonsense,"  whispered  the  old 
lady;  "but  Madam  Naso  plays  astonishingly 
well." 

"  Be  still !  "  now  Petra,  too,  called  out ;  she 
was  already  absorbed  in  the  play,  for  now  the 
fiendish  monk  appeared  with  a  sword.  The 
two  lovers  were  made  to  take  a  piece  of  cloth 
and  he  cut  it  asunder  between  them  with  his 
sword,  as  the  church  severs,  as  pain  severs,  and 
as  the  sword  above  the  gates  of  Paradise  sev- 
ered from  bliss  on  that  day  when  Adam  and 
Eve  were  driven  from  the  garden  of  Eden. 
Weeping  women  took  from  the  bride  her  red 
wreath,  and  gave  her  in  its  place  a  white  one ; 
with  it  she  was  pledged  to  the  cloister  for  life. 
He,  to  whom  she  belonged  beyond  time  and 
eternity,  should  know  that  she  lived,  but  might 
not  claim  her ;  know  her  to  be  buried  within 
those  convent  walls,  yet  never  see  her.  How 
heart-rending  the  farewell  they  bade  each 
other!  There  could  be  no  greater  grief  on 
earth  than  theirs ! 

"  Good  gracious !  "  whispered  the  old  lady, 
as  the  curtain  fell ;  "  do  not  be  so  foolish,  I 
beg  of  you.  It  is  only  Madam  Naso,  the  man- 
ager's wife." 

Petra  opened  wide  her  eyes  and  stared  at 


THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN.  185 

the  good  lady.  She  thought  she  must  be  mad, 
and  as  the  lady  had  long  held  the  same  opinion 
of  Petra,  they  kept  on  glancing  shyly  at  each 
other  from  time  to  time,  but  interchanged  no 
further  remarks. 

When  the  curtain  rose  once  more,  Petra 
could  no  longer  follow  what  was  taking  place 
on  the  stage ;  she  had  eyes  for  nothing  save 
the  bride  behind  the  cloister  walls  and  the 
bridegroom  watching  by  day  and  by  night 
without,  both  in  dire  despair.  She  endured 
their  agony ;  she  prayed  their  prayers ;  all  that 
was  actually  on  the  stage  passed  colorless  be- 
fore her.  An  ominous  silence  recalled  her ; 
the  empty  church  kept  growing  ever  larger ; 
no  sound  was  heard  within  save  the  twelve 
strokes  of  the  midnight  hour.  Beneath  the 
vaulted  roof  is  heard  a  rumbling  peal,  the  walls 
ti*emble,  St.  Olaf  has  arisen  from  his  tomb,  his 
winding-sheet  about  him.  Tall  and  terrible, 
he  strides  onward ;  guards  flee  before  him ; 
thunder  rolls  ;  and  the  monk  falls,  pierced  by 
the  mighty  spear,  whereupon  darkness  closes 
around,  and  the  apparition  sinks  away.  The 
monk  is  left  lying  there  like  a  heap  of  ashes 
struck  by  lightning. 

Petra  had  unconscioxisly  cleng  to  the  old 
lady,  who  had  been  rather  alanued  by  her  oon- 


136  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

mlsive  grasp,  but  now  seeing  her  growing  paler 
hastened  to  say,  — 

"  Bless  you,  child  I  this  is  merely  Knatscn. 
This  is  the  only  part  he  can  act  because  hii 
voice  is  so  thick." 

"No,  no,  no,  no!  I  saw  the  flames  about 
him,"  said  Petra,  "  and  the  church  trembled 
beneath  his  tread  I  " 

"  Do  be  quiet  there !  "  is  cried  from  several 
quarters.  "  Out  with  whoever  it  is  that  can- 
not keep  quiet !  " 

"  Silence  in  the  balcony  ! "  comes  from  the 
parquet. 

"  Be  still  I  "  answers  the  balcony. 

Petra  had  cowered  down  as  if  to  shield  her- 
self from  observation,  but  immediately  forgot 
what  had  been  going  on,  for  lo !  there  are  the 
lovers  again;  the  lightning  has  burst  open  a 
way  for  them ;  they  are  seeking  escape.  They 
have  found  each  other,  —  they  fall  into  each 
other's  arms.  God  in  heaven,  protect  them 
now  I 

Then  there  arises  a  clamor  of  shouts,  min- 
gled with  the  sound  of  trumpets.  The  bride- 
groom is  torn  from  his  bride's  side  and  is  made 
to  join  the  hosts  battling  for  the  fatherland. 
He  is  wounded,  and  with  his  dying  breath 
sends  his  last  greetings   to  his  bride.     Petn 


THE  nSIIER  MAIDtaf.  187 

dooa  not  comprehend  what  has  happened  an  til 
the  bride  quietly  enters  and  sees  his  corpse ! 
Then  it  seems  as  if  every  cload  of  sorrow  had 
gathered  over  this  one  spot ;  but  a  glance  dis- 
perses them.  From  the  bosom  of  the  dead  the 
bride  looks  up  and  prays  that  she,  too,  may  die. 
The  heavens  are  opened  to  that  gaze ;  a  won- 
drous light  streams  down ;  the  bridal  chamber 
is  above ;  let  the  bride  enter.  Ah  I  she  can 
already  look  in,  for  in  her  eyes  there  sparkles 
a  peace  like  that  on  yonder  lofty  mountains. 
Then  the  eyelids  droop,  the  struggle  has  ended 
in  victory,  the  fidelity  of  the  lovers  has  won  an 
exalted  crown.  She  has  joined  her  lover  now. 
Petra  long  sat  silent ;  her  heart  was  up- 
lifted  in  faith,  her  whole  being  filled  with  the 
strength  and  greatness  she  had  witnessed.  She 
rose  superior  to  all  that  was  groveling ;  she  rose 
above  fear  and  pain ;  she  rose  with  a  smile  for 
every  one,  and  in  them  all  she  saw  her  brothers 
and  sisters.  The  evil  which  divides  man  ex- 
isted no  longer  —  it  lay  crushed  beneath  the 
thunder.  People  returned  her  smile ;  she  was 
the  person  who  had  been  half  beside  herself 
during  the  play ;  but  she  saw  in  their  smiles 
only  the  reflection  of  the  victory  she  bore 
within  herself.  In  the  belief  that  their  smiles 
were  in  harmony  with  her  own,  she  smiled 


188  THE  FISHER  MAmiEN. 

back  so  radiantly  that  they  smiled  in  response 
to  her  smile.  She  passed  down  the  broad  stair- 
way, between  the  two  receding  columns,  from 
which  was  reflected  joy  in  response  to  her  joy, 
and  beauty  in  response  to  the  beauty  which 
radiated  from  her.  There  are  times  when  the 
beams  of  light  in  our  own  souls  become  so 
brilliant  that  they  make  everything  about  us 
bright  though  we  ourselves  be  unconscious  of  it. 
This  is  earth's  grandest  triumphal  procession — 
to  be  announced,  borne  onward,  and  followed 
by  one's  own  glowing  thoughts. 

When  Petra,  not  knovdng  how  she  came 
there,  reached  home,  she  inquired  what  it  was 
she  had  seen.  There  were  several  persons 
present  who  were  able  to  understand  her  and 
give  her  a  helpful  answer.  And  after  it  had 
Deen  fully  explained  to  her  what  a  drama  was, 
and  what  great  actors  had  in  their  power  to  do, 
she  started  up  and  said,  — 

"  This  is  the  noblest  calling  on  earth ;  this 
is  what  I  mean  to  be." 

To  the  astonishment  of  every  one  she  put  on 
her  things  and  went  out  again.  She  felt  that 
she  must  be  alone  in  the  open  air.  She  walked 
out  of  town,  and,  though  the  wind  blew  high, 
passed  on  to  a  point  near  by  that  jutted  out  into 
the  sea.      The  turbulent  waves  were  dashing 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  139 

agaiust  the  rocks  below  ;  but  on  both  sides  of 
the  bay  the  town  lay  overspread  with  a  lumi- 
nous haze,  through  which  countless  numbers  of 
scattered  beams  of  light  were  working  their 
way,  and  could  but  shed  radiance  over  the  veil 
they  could  not  raise.  She  made  this  an  em- 
blem of  her  soul.  The  hollow  sound  in  the 
mighty  darkness  beneath  her  feet  was  a  warn- 
ing from  unfathomable  depths.  Either  she 
must  sink  into  the  dread  abyss,  or  she  must 
enter  the  ranks  of  those  who  are  striving  to 
give  light.  She  asked  herself  why  she  had 
never  had  such  thoughts  before,  and  replied 
that  it  was  because  she  had  been  ruled  by  the 
power  of  the  moment,  but  then  she  also  felt 
that  at  such  times  she  had  power  indeed.  She 
saw  it  now :  just  as  many  moments  would  be 
granted  her  as  there  were  twinkling  lights  yon- 
der, and  she  prayed  God  to  be  able  to  make 
them  all  full  that  He  might  not  have  kindled 
them  in  vain.  An  icy  wind  blew  about  her, 
and  she  rose.  She  had  not  been  gone  long, 
but  when  she  bent  her  steps  homeward  once 
more  she  knew  whither  her  path  must  hence- 
forth lead. 

The  next  day  she  stood  before  the  manager's 
door.  Loud,  angry  voices  reached  her  from 
within  ;  one  of  them,  sh6  thought,  was  like  that 


140  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

of  the  bride  of  yesterday.  It  was  pitched  in  a 
different  key,  it  was  true,  but  it  made  Petra 
quiver.  She  waited  for  some  time,  but  as  it 
seemed  as  though  there  would  be  no  end  to  the 
bickering,  she  knocked. 

"  Come  in  I  "  cried  a  man's  voice,  in  a  very 
angry  tone. 

"  Oh  I "  screamed  a  female  voice,  and  as  Pe- 
tra opened  the  door,  she  saw  a  picture  of  flying 
terror,  with  streaming  liair  and  night-dress, 
vanish  through  a  side  door. 

The  manager,  a  tall  man,  with  savage  eyes 
which  he  hastened  to  cover  with  a  pair  of  gold 
spectacles,  was  pacing  the  floor  in  a  state  of 
wild  tumult.  His  long  nose  so  completely 
dominated  his  face  that  all  the  other  features 
seemed  to  be  there  for  its  sake  alone.  His 
eyes  peered  out  like  a  brace  of  gun  barrels  be- 
hind this  bulwark  ;  the  mouth  was  a  ditch  in 
front  of  it,  and  the  forehead  a  light  bridge 
thrown  across  from  it  to  the  forest  or  the  "  bar- 
ricades." 

"  What  do  you  want?"  he  snarled,  suddenly 
coming  to  a  halt  in  front  of  Petra.  "  Are  you 
the  person  who  wants  to  become  a  chorus- 
singer  ?  " 

"  Chorus-singer  ?    What  is  that ?  " 

"  Well,  then  you  do  not  know,  aha  I  What 
do  you  want,  then  ?  " 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  141 

"  I  want  to  be  an  actress." 

"  So  that  is  what  you  want  —  indeed,  ana 
you  do  not  so  much  as  know  what  a  chorus- 
singer  is.     But  do  you  not  speak  a  dialect  ?  " 

"Dialect?     What  is  that?" 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  I  You  do  not  know 
what  that  is  either,  and  yet  you  want  to  be  an 
actress.  Ah,  indeed  I  —  yes,  that  is  just  like 
those  Norwegians.  Dialect  means  that  you  do 
not  talk  as  we  do." 

"  Yes,  but  I  have  been  practicing  the  whole 
morning." 

"  Have  you,  indeed  ?  Well  —  well  I  Let 
me  hear  I  " 

And  Petra  struck  an  attitude  and  said,  with 
the  same  accent  as  the  bride  of  yesterday,  — 

"  I  greet  you,  my  love,  good  morning  I  " 

"  I  think  I  — the  deuce  take  you  1  —  that  you 
must  have  come  here  to  ridicule  my  wife  I " 

A  peal  of  laughter  was  heard  from  the  ad- 
joining room,  and  the  manager,  without  in  the 
least  appearing  to  remember  the  mortal  quarrel 
of  a  moment  since,  opened  the  door  and  called 
in :  — 

"  Here  is  a  Norwegian  hussy  who  wants  to 
caricature  you.     Do  come  out  and  see." 

A  lady,  with  disheveled,  obstinate  black  hair, 
dark  eyes,  and  large  mouth,  actually  throst  hn* 


142  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

head  into  the  room  and  laughed.  But  Petra 
hastened  toward  her,  for  this  must  be  the  bride 
—  no,  her  mother,  she  thought,  as  she  came 
nearer.  With  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  lady,  she 
said,  — 

"  I  am  not  sure  whether  it  is  you  —  or  is  it 
your  mother  ?  " 

Now  the  manager  laughed;  the  lady  had 
drawn  back  her  bead,  and  she  continued  to 
laugh  in  the  side  room.  Petra's  embaiTass- 
ment  was  so  vividly  depicted  in  her  face,  her 
attitude,  the  play  of  her  features,  that  the 
manager  became  attentive.  After  watching 
her  for  a  while,  he  picked  up  a  book,  and,  as  if 
nothing  in  the  world  had  occurred,  said,  — 

"  Take  this  and  read,  my  girl ;  but  read  as 
you  yourself  speak." 

She  did  so  at  once. 

"  No,  no,  that  is  not  right.  Listen  to  me  ! " 
He  read  to  her,  and  she  repeated  what  he  had 
read,  imitating  to  perfection. 

"  No,  no,  that  is  wrong ;  read  Norwegian  — 
the  deuce  !  Norwegian." 

And  Petra  again  read  as  before. 

"  No,  I  tell  you,  that  is  entirely  wrong.  Dc 
not  you  understand  what  I  mean?  Are  you 
Btupid?" 

He  tried  again  and  again,  and  gave  her  an 
dther  book. 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  148 

"'■  See,  this  is  in  the  opposite  style ;  it  is 
coiaic.     Read  this." 

Petra  read,  but  tlie  same  confusion  followed 
until  he  grew  disgusted,  and  shouted,  — 

"  No,  no,  no !  Why  the  devil  ao  vou  not 
stop  ?  What  do  you  want  on  the  stage  ?  What 
the  deuce  is  it  you  want  to  play  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  play  what  I  ^-.iw  yesterday." 

"  Aha  I  Of  course  yc  u  do  1  Well,  —  and 
then?" 

"Why,"  said  she,  grjwing  rather  embar- 
rassed, "it  seemed  to  me  splendid  yesterday, 
but  to-day  I  have  been  thinking  it  over,  and  I 
feel  sure  it  would  be  better  still  if  it  had  a 
good  ending.  That  is  the  way  I  would  like  to 
play  it." 

"  Would  you,  indeed  ?  Ah,  well  I  There  is 
really  nothing  to  prevent.  The  author  is  dead, 
he  can  make  no  further  corrections,  and  you 
who  can  neither  speak  nor  read  want  to  re- 
model his  play  for  him.  Well,  that  is  truly 
Norwegian  I  " 

Petra  did  not  comprehend  a  word ;  she  only 
understood  that  it  was  against  her,  and  she  he- 
gan  to  feel  uneasy. 

"  May  I  not?  "  asked  she,  softly 

"  Why,  good  gracious .  there  is  nothing  to 
prevent.      Pray  begin  !      Listen,"  said   he,  in 


144  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

an  entirely  different  tone,  and  walking  straight 
up  to  her :  "  You  have  no  more  idea  of  acting 
than  a  cat.  And  you  have  no  talent  either  for 
comedy  or  tragedy;  I  have  now  tried  you  in 
both.  Because  you  have  a  pretty  face  and  a 
pretty  figure,  people  have  persuaded  you  that 
you  can  play  better  than  my  wife,  to  be  sure, 
and  so  you  want  to  come  out  in  the  finest  rdle 
in  our  repertoire  and  alter  it  in  the  bargain. 
Well,  that  is  the  way  with  the  Norwegians  I 
they  are  people  who  are  ready  for  everything  1 " 

Petra's  breath  grew  shorter  and  more  la- 
bored, and  there  was  evidently  a  struggle  going 
on  within.  At  length  she  ventured  to  whis- 
per,— 

"  Do  you  really  say  that  I  may  not  ?  " 

He  had  been  standing  looking  out  of  the 
window,  feeling  quite  sure  that  she  had  gone. 
Much  astonished,  he  now  turns,  but  observing 
her  strongly-depicted  emotion,  and  the  vigor 
indicated  by  her  whole  demeanor,  he  pauses  a 
moment,  suddenly  seizes  a  book,  and,  handing 
it  to  her,  says,  in  a  voice  and  with  an  expres- 
sion of  countenance  from  which  every  trace  of 
his  former  manner  had  been  effaced,  — 

"  Here,  read  this  piece,  and  read  it  slowly 
just  that  I  may  hear  your  voice.  Well,  —  go 
on  I" 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  145 

But  she  could  not  read;  she  could  not  so 
much  as  see  the  letters. 

"  Come,  do  not  be  embarrassed  I  " 

She  began  at  last,  but  her  reading  was  cold, 
colorless.  He  begged  her  to  read  the  passage 
again,  and  "  with  more  feeling."  That  made 
it  still  worse.  At  this  he  took  the  book  from 
her,  saying  calmly,  — 

"  I  have  now  tried  you  in  every  possible 
way,  so  I  cannot  be  blamed.  I  do  assure  you, 
my  dear  young  lady,  if  I  should  send  my  boot 
on  the  stage  or  send  you,  it  would  make  pre- 
cisely the  same  impression,  and  a  most  singular 
one  it  would  be.     And  now  this  is  enough  I  " 

But  as  a  final  effort  Petra  ventured  to  say, 
in  tones  of  entreaty,  — 

"I  really  think  I  would  understand  if  I 
might  only  " — 

"  Yes,  no  doubt,  —  every  fishing  hamlet  un- 
derstands the  matter  far  better  than  we.  The 
Norwegian  public  is  the  most  enlightened  in 
the  world.  Come,  now,  if  you  will  not  go,  I 
will !  " 

She  turned  to  the  door,  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  See  here  1  "  said  he  —  for  this  violent  emo- 
tion had  kindled  a  light  within  him.  "  Is  it 
possible  that  it  was  you  who  made  so  much  ex- 
titement  in  the  theatre  yesterday  ?  " 


146  THE  FISHER   MATOEN. 

She  grew  jfiery  red,  and  stood  looking  help- 
lessly at  him. 

"  Yes,  of  course  it  was  you.  I  know  you 
now  —  '  the  fisher  maiden.*  After  the  play  I 
was  in  company  with  a  gentleman  from  your 
native  place ;  he  '  knew  you  well.'  And  so 
this  is  why  you  want  to  go  on  the  stage :  you 
want  to  practice  your  arts  there.  That  is  it  I 
Hark,  my  theatre  is  a  respectable  place,  and  I 
decline  every  attempt  to  make  it  otherwise. 
Go  I     Will  you  go,  I  say  ?  " 

And  Petra  passed  out  the  door,  went  sobbing 
down  the  stairs,  and  out  of  the  house.  She  ran 
weeping  through  the  crowded  streets  ;  and  a 
young  woman  running  weeping  thus  in  broad 
daylight  through  the  streets  of  a  city  could  not 
but  create  a  sensation.  People  stood  still 
while  small  boys  started  in  pursuit,  and  their 
numbers  kept  increasing.  In  the  clatter  be- 
hind her  Petra  heard  the  rumbling  sounds  of 
that  night  in  her  loft  chamber,  she  recalled 
the  faces  in  the  air  and  sped  swiftly  onward. 
But  recollection  grew  with  every  step,  and  so 
did  the  noise  behind  her,  and  when  she  had 
reached  the  house  and  torn  open  the  street 
door,  gained  her  own  room,  and  locked  herself 
in,  she  had  to  fling  herself  in  a  comer  and 
ward  off  the  faces  that  assailed  her  ;  she  drove 


THE   FISHEK  MAIDEN.  147 

them  away  with  her  hands,  with  menacing 
gestures,  then  sank  exhausted  and  wept  more 
softly  —  and  was  saved. 

That  same  afternoon,  toward  evening,  she 
left  Bergen,  and  started  inland.  Whither  she 
was  bound  she  knew  not  herself;  she  only 
wanted  to  go  where  she  was  not  known.  She 
rode  in  a  cariole,  with  her  trunk  strapped  on 
behind  and  a  post-boy  sitting  on  it.  The  rain 
was  pouring  down  in  torrents,  and  she  sat 
crouching  beneath  a  huge  umbrella,  gazing  tim- 
idly up  at  the  mountain  and  then  down  at  the 
precipice  at  her  side.  A  brooding  mass  of  fog 
hung  over  the  forest  in  front  of  her,  filled  with 
spectres;  in  the  next  moment  she  would  be 
there ;  but  the  nearer  she  drew  the  more  the 
tog  receded.  A  mighty  roaring,  growing  ever 
stronger,  increased  the  feeling  that  she  was 
journeying  onward  through  a  mysterious  re- 
gion, where  everything  had  its  own  signifi- 
cance, its  own  obscure  connection,  and  where 
mortal  was  but  a  timid  wayfarer  who  had  to 
be  ever  on  his  guard  if  he  wished  to  make 
progress.  The  roar  came  from  many  forces 
swollen  by  the  rain  until  they  had  become  gi- 
ants, and  now  plunged  madly  from  precipice 
to  precipice   with   a  thundering  crash.      The 


148  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

road  led  over  narrow  bridges,  and  Petra  could 
see  the  seething  and  foaming  of  the  waters  in 
the  depths  below.  Anon  it  wound  and  curved 
down  the  mountains,  here  and  there  bringing 
to  view  some  solitary  cultivated  spot,  dotted 
with  turf-thatched  cottages,  then  leading  up- 
ward again  toward  the  forest  and  the  boom 
of  the  falling  waters.  Her  clothes  were  wet 
through  and  she  was  cold  ;  but  she  was  re- 
solved to  pursue  her  way  onward  as  long  as 
daylight  lasted,  onward  the  next  day,  too,  ever 
farther  inland  until  she  reached  a  spot  where 
she  dared  feel  secure.  Thither  would  the  Al- 
mighty help  her.  He  who  was  guiding  her  now 
through  darkness  and  tempest. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

In  those  sheltered,  fertile  valleys,  scattered 
through  the  mountains  in  the  diocese  of  Ber- 
gen, a  mild  autumn  sometimes  has  summer-like 
days  even  late  in  the  season.  Then  the  cattle 
are  driven  out  to  pasture  a  while  at  noon,  even 
after  they  have  already  been  taken  in  to  win- 
ter fodder ;  thus  they  become  fat  and  frolic- 
some, and  present  a  lively  scene  when  they  are 
brought  home  again  in  the  afternoon. 

And  so  it  chanced  that  the  cattle  were  com- 
ing down  the  mountain-path,  cows,  sheep,  and 
goats,  lowing,  bleating,  skipping  to  the  tinkling 
of  bells  and  turning  into  a  large  gard,  just  as 
Petra  drove  by.  The  weather  was  fine  ;  every 
pane  of  the  long  white  wooden  building  glit- 
tered in  the  sunshine,  and  above  the  house 
loomed  the  mountain,  so  densely  covered  with 
fir,  birch,  bird-cherry,  and  ash,  and  on  the  crags 
with  dog-rose,  that  the  houses  could  not  help 
gaining  warmth  therefrom.  In  front  of  the 
main  building,  on  the  side  nearest  the  road, 
there  was  a  garden  full  of  app^e  and  red  and 


160  THE  nSHER  MAIDEN. 

black  cherry  trees,  with  long  paths  and  hedges  of 
currant,  gooseberry,  and  black  currant  bushes ; 
but  high  above  them  all  some  venerable  ash 
trees  reared  their  broad  crowns.  The  house 
looked  like  a  nest  hidden  away  among  the  foli- 
age, and  accessible  to  the  sun  alone.  But  it 
was  just  this  appearance  of  concealment  that 
aroused  a  longing  within  Petra,  and  the  sun 
glittering  on  the  window-panes  and  the  allur- 
ing tinkle  of  the  merry  bells  strengthened  it, 
and  when  she  heard  that  this  was  a  parsonage, 
she  hastily  seized  the  reins.  "Ah,  I  must  enter 
here ! "  cried  she,  and  turning,  drove  in  past 
the  garden. 

A  couple  of  Lapland  dogs  rushed  savagely  at 
her  as  she  drove  into  the  farm-yard,  which  was 
a  large  square  surrounded  by  buildings,  with 
the  stable  directly  opposite  the  main  building  ; 
another  wing  of  the  latter  to  the  right,  and  the 
brew-house  and  servants'  hall  to  the  left.  The 
farm -yard  was  now  filled  with  cattle,  and  in 
their  midst  stood  a  lady,  rather  tall  and  of 
graceful,  refined  form.  She  wore  a  close-fitting 
dress  and  had  a  kerchief  tied  about  her  head  ; 
round  about  her,  and  close  up  to  her,  were  the 
goats,  white,  black,  brown,  and  speckled  ones, 
all  wearing  little  bells  that  were  tuned  iu 
thirds.     She  had  a  name   for  each  goat  and 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  lAI 

something  good  in  a  dish  which  the  dairy-maid 
constantly  replenished. 

On  the  low  steps  leading  from  the  main 
building  to  the  court  stood  the  priest,  with  a 
dish  of  salt  in  his  hand,  and  in  front  of  him 
stood  the  cows,  licking  salt  from  his  hand  and 
from  the  flag-stone  on  which  he  strewed  it.  The 
priest  was  not  a  tall  man,  but  was  solid-looking, 
with  a  short  neck  and  a  narrow  forehead ;  his 
bushy  brows  overhung  a  pair  of  eyes  which 
seemed  averse  to  looking  straight  before  them, 
but  from  which  now  and  then  shot  radiant 
sidelong  glances.  His  closely-cropped,  thick 
hair  was  gray  and  bristled  out  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  there  was  almost  as  heavy  a  growth  on 
his  neck  as  on  his  head ;  he  wore  no  neck-tie, 
only  a  shirt-stud  ;  the  shirt  was  open  in  front, 
exposing  the  hairy  breast ;  nor  was  it  buttoned 
at  the  wrists,  and  the  wristbands  fell  over  the 
small,  strong,  begrimed  hands  that  were  deal- 
ing salt.  Both  hands  and  arms  were  over- 
grown with  hair.  He  cast  a  sharp  side-glance 
at  the  young  stranger,  who  had  alighted  and 
threaded  her  way  in  among  the  goats,  until  she 
stood  beside  his  daughter.  What  the  two  were 
talking  about  he  could  not  possibly  hear  for  the 
cattle,  the  dogs,  and  the  bells ;  but  now  both 
ladies  turned  their  eyes  toward  him  and  snr- 


152  THE  FISHER   MAffiEN. 

ronnded  by  goats  approached  the  steps.  At  a 
sign  from  the  priest  a  herd-boy  drove  back  the 
cows.  Signe,  the  priest's  daughter,  called, 
and  Petra  was  forced  to  notice  her  melodious 
voice  — 

"  Father,  here  is  a  lady  on  a  journey  who 
would  like  to  rest  with  us  for  a  day." 

"  She  is  welcome  I  "  was  the  priest's  reply, 
and  handing  the  dish  to  one  of  the  boys,  he  en- 
tered his  study  to  the  right,  most  likely  to  at- 
tend to  his  toilet.  Petra  followed  the  young 
lady  of  the  house  into  the  passage,  which, 
properly  speaking,  should  be  termed  a  hall,  it 
was  so  light  and  broad;  she  settled  with  the 
post-boy,  her  luggage  was  carried  into  the 
house,  and  she  herself  went  into  a  side-room, 
opposite  the  study  to  make  some  changes  in 
her  dress,  and  then  returned  to  the  hall  to  b« 
ushered  into  the  family  sitting-room. 

What  a  large,  bright  room  !  The  wall  to- 
ward the  garden  was  nearly  all  windows,  and 
the  middle  one  of  these  served  also  as  a  door 
to  the  garden.  The  windows  were  broad  and 
high,  and  extended  almost  to  the  floor,  and 
they  were  filled  with  flowers.  The  floor  in 
front  of  the  windows  was  covered  with  flower- 
pots ;  there  were  flowers,  too,  on  the  window- 
eiUs,  and,  in  the  place  of  curtains,  ivies,  grow- 


THE   nSHEB   MAIDEN.  16S 

ing  oat  of  two  small  flower  baskets  on  either 
side  of  the  window,  were  gracefully  festooned. 
And  there  were  shrubs  and  flowers  out  of 
doors,  in  the  garden  below,  near  the  house, 
creeping  over  the  walls,  and  finally  on  the 
ground  round  about ;  it  seemed  like  entering 
a  hot-house  built  in  the  centre  of  a  garden. 
And  yet  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  remain  a 
moment  in  this  room  before  the  flowers  ceased 
to  attract  the  attention ;  it  was  the  solitary 
church,  standing  on  an  eminence  to  the  right, 
that  was  now  seen,  and  the  blue  waters  that 
reflected  its  image  and  then  flowed  glittering 
onward  far  away  among  the  mountains,  so  far 
that  it  was  impossible  to  decide  whether  it  was 
a  lake  or  an  arm  of  the  sea.  And  then  these 
mountains  themselves  I  Not  solitary  peaks, 
but  chains  of  mountains,  one  mighty  ridge  per- 
petually rising  behind  the  other  as  though  here 
were  the  limits  of  human  habitations. 

When  Petra  withdrew  her  eyes  the  whole 
room  seemed  consecrated  by  the  view  without ; 
everything  was  pure  and  light,  and  served  as  a 
flower  frame-work  to  that  grand  picture.  She 
felt  as  if  encompassed  by  some  unseen  power 
that  heeded  her  actions,  aye,  even  her  thoughts ; 
she  walked  about  involuntary  examining  her 
surroundings  and  touching  the  various  objects 


154  THE   FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

in  the  room.  Above  the  sofa,  on  the  long 
wall  facing  the  light,  she  then  saw  a  life-sized 
portrait  of  a  lady  who  was  smiling  down  at 
her.  She  sat  with  her  head  slightly  inclined 
to  one  side  and  with  her  hands  clasped  ;  her 
right  arm  was  resting  on  a  book  that  bore  the 
inscription  "Sabbath  Book."  Her  light  hair, 
her  transparent  complexion,  seemed  to  invest 
with  Sabbath-like  repose  all  that  she  beamed 
upon.  Her  smile  was  earnest;  but  the  earnest- 
ness was  that  of  resignation.  She  seemed  to 
have  the  power  of  making  every  one  love  her ; 
and  she  seemed  to  have  comprehension  for  all, 
because  she  saw  in  everything  the  good  alone. 
Her  face  bore  traces  of  feeble  health,  but  this 
weakness  might  have  been  her  strength ;  for 
surely  there  could  have  existed  no  one  who 
would  have  been  willing  to  take  advantage  of 
it.  A  wreath  of  immortelles  hung  over  the 
frame,  —  she  was  dead. 

"  That  is  my  mother's  picture,"  Petra  heard 
in  gentle  tones  behind  her,  and  turning,  she 
saw  the  daughter,  who  had  left  the  room  and 
had  now  returned. 

Henceforth  the  portrait  filled  the  whole 
room  :  everything  led  up  to  it ;  everything  was 
invested  with  its  light ;  everything  else  was  ar- 
ranged with  reference  to  it ;  and  the  daughter 


THE  FISUER   MAIDEN.  155 

ivas  its  peaceful  reflection.  Rather  more  si- 
lent, rather  more  reserved  seemed  the  daughter. 
The  mother's  eyes  met  every  gaze  with  a  full, 
clear  light;  the  daughter's  drooped,  yet  they 
had  the  same  brightness  and  gentleness.  She 
had  her  mother's  build,  yet  no  indication  of 
delicate  health  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  bright 
colors  of  her  close-fitting  dress,  her  apron,  and 
her  little  neckerchief,  that  was  fastened  with  a 
Roman  pin,  invested  her  face  with  a  glow  of 
freshness,  and  evinced  a  grace  and  a  love  of 
beauty  that  made  her  worthy  to  be  the  daugh- 
ter of  her  in  the  portrait  and  the  guardian 
spirit  of  this  home.  As  she  moved  about 
among  her  mother's  flowers,  Petra's  heart 
yearned  toward  her.  In  the  society  of  this 
young  girl  and  in  this  home  all  the  good  within 
her  must  find  growth.  Ah,  if  she  could  only 
abide  within  these  blessed  precincts  I  Doubly 
desolate  did  she  feel  as  her  eyes  now  intently 
followed  Signe,  who  glided  softly  through  the 
room,  pausing  here  and  there.  Signe  felt  this, 
and  tried  to  avoid  her  gaze ;  but  in  vain,  and 
8o  she  became  embarrassed,  and  bowed  over 
the  flowers.  At  length  Petra  realized  hei 
rudeness,  and,  much  ashamed,  wished  to  apolo- 
gize, but  there  was  something  in  this  carefuUy- 
»rrauged  hair,  this  delicate  brow,  this  neatly- 


166  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

fittiiig  dress  that  bade  her  bewara.  She  looked 
up  at  the  portrait.  She  could  have  thi'own  her- 
self into  that  mother's  arms  without  hesitation. 
Did  it  not  seem  as  though  she  had  a  welcome 
for  her  ?  Dared  she  believe  it  ?  Yes,  indeed, 
for  thus  no  one  had  ever  looked  at  her  before. 
That  look  showed  that  she  knew  everythiug 
that  had  befallen  the  wayfarer  and  would  yet 
forgive  her.  Petra  was  sadly  in  need  of  for- 
bearance, and  she  found  it  impossible  to  turn 
away  from  these  benevolent  eyes  ;  she  held  her 
head  on  one  side,  as  the  figure  in  the  portrait 
did ;  she  clasped  her  hands  as  those  hands  were 
clasped,  and  looked  around  almost  uncon- 
sciously. 

"  Please  let  me  stay  here  I "  exclaimed  she. 

Signe  rose  and  turned  toward  her,  too  much 
amazed  to  reply. 

"  Please  let  me  stay  here  I "  begged  Petra, 
once  more  taking  a  step  towards  Signe.  "  It 
is  so  delightful  here !  "  she  added,  and  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears. 

"I  will  ask  father  to  come  in,"  said  the  young 
la^y. 

Petra  followed  her  with  her  eyes  until  she 
had  entered  the  study ;  but  no  sooner  was  she 
alone  than  she  became  frightened  at  what 
she  had  done,  and  trembled  when  she  saw  the 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  167 

priest's  astonished  faco  in  the  door.  He  came 
rather  better  dressed  than  when  she  had  last 
seen  him,  and  he  had  his  pipe  in  his  mouth.  He 
held  it  with  a  firm  giip,  letting  the  mouth-piece 
slip  from  his  lips  with  every  whiff  he  drew  and 
puffing  the  smoke  out  again  in  three  columns, 
each  time  with  a  little  smack  ;  this  he  did  sev- 
eral times,  standing  right  in  front  of  Petra,  in 
the  middle  of  the  floor,  without  really  looking 
at  her,  but  as  though  waiting  for  her  to  speak. 
She  dared  not  repeat  her  entreaty  before  this 
man,  he  looked  so  stern. 

"  You  want  to  remain  here  ?  "  he  asked,  be- 
stowing on  her  a  short,  bright  side-glance. 

Alarm  made  her  voice  quiver. 

"  I  have  no  place  where  I  can  go." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from  ?  " 

In  a  low  tone  Peti-a  mentioned  her  natiye 
town  and  her  own  name. 

"  What  brought  you  here  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  —  I  am  seeking  —  I  wish  to 
pay  —  I  —  Ah,  I  do  not  know,"  and  she  turned 
away,  unable  for  a  moment  to  utter  another 
word,  but  summoning  courage,  she  said  :  — 

"  I  will  do  all  you  ask  of  me,  if  I  may  only 
stay  here  and  not  have  to  travel  farther  —  and 
not  have  to  entreat  you  any  more.'* 

The  daughter  had  come  into  the  room  with 


168  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

her  father,  but  had  stopped  by  the  stove,  where 
she  stood,  with  downcast  eyes,  toying  with  the 
rose-leaves  lying  there  to  dry.  The  priest  did 
not  reply,  the  puffing  from  his  pipe  was  the 
only  sound  to  be  heard,  while  he  gazed  alter- 
nately at  Petra,  his  daughter,  and  the  portrait. 
Now,  the  same  object  may  produce  totally  dif- 
ferent impressions :  for  while  Petra  prayed  that 
the  portrait  might  inspire  him  with  forbear- 
ance, it  seemed  to  him  that  it  whispered, 
"  Guard  our  child !  Do  not  give  her  the  com- 
panionship of  one  who  is  unknown  to  you  I " 

"No  —  you  cannot  stay,"  said  he,  turning 
with  a  sharp  side-look  to  Petra. 

Petra  grew  pale,  heaved  a  deep,  passionate 
sigh,  gazed  wildly  about  her,  and  rushed  into 
a  side-room,  whose  door  stood  half  open,  flung 
herself  down  by  a  table,  and,  burying  her  face, 
wholly  gave  way  to  her  grief  and  disappoint- 
ment. 

Father  and  daughter  exchanged  glances. 
This  total  lack  of  good  breeding  shown  in 
bursting  without  a  word  into  another  room  and 
there  seating  herself  alone,  had  only  its  coun- 
terpart in  the  strange  conduct  of  coming  in 
from  the  highway,  begging  to  be  allowed  to 
remain,  and  wailing  aloud  when  not  permitted 
to  do  so.     The  priest  crossed   the  floor  after 


THE  FISHKB   MAIDEN.  159 

her,  not  to  speak  to  her,  but,  on  the  contrary, 
to  close  the  door  behind  her.  He  came  back, 
his  face  flushed,  and  said,  in  a  low  tone,  to  his 
daughter,  who  still  stood  by  the  stove :  — 

"  Did  you  ever  see  the  like  of  that  woman  ? 
Who  is  she ?     What  does  she  want? '* 

The  daughter  did  not  reply  immediately ; 
but  when  she  did,  she  spoke  in  a  still  softer 
tone  than  her  father. 

"  She  acts  strangely,  but  there  is  some- 
thing remarkable  about  her." 

The  priest  was  pacing  the  fl^oor,  and  kept 
watching  the  door;  finally  he  paused,  and 
whispered,  — 

"  Do  you  think  her  mind  is  sou)id  ?  "  and  as 
Signe  did  not  answer,  he  came  nearer,  repeat- 
ing more  decidedly,  "  She  is  mad,  Signe,  half- 
witted :  that  is  what  is  remarkable  about  her." 

He  resumed  his  walk  ;  other  thoughts  began 
to  work  in  his  mind,  he  had  almost  forgotten 
what  he  had  last  said,  when  his  daughter  at 
length  whispered,  — 

"  I  cannot  think  so ;  but  she  is  certainly 
very  unhappy." 

With  this  she  bowed  over  the  dried  rose- 
leaves  she  was  still  fingering.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  the  ring  of  her  voice  nor  in  her  move- 
ments that  would  have  attracted  the  attention 


160  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

of  another,  but  her  father's  manner  changed  at 
once ;  he  walked  up  and  down  several  times, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  portrait,  and  finally  said, 
but  very  softly,  — 

*'  Do  you  think  that,  because  she  looks  un- 
happy —  mother  would  have  asked  her  tc 
stay  ?  " 

"  Mother  would  have  given  no  answer  for 
several  days,"  whispered  the  daughter,  bowing 
still  lower  over  the  rose-leaves. 

The  slightest  remembrance  of  her  in  the  por- 
trait,  when  brought  forward  thus  by  the  daugh- 
ter, could  make  that  hairy  lion's  head  as  meek 
as  a  lamb's.  He  felt  at  once  the  truth  of  what 
Signe  said  ;  he  stood  like  a  school-boy  who  has 
been  caught  in  deception ;  he  forgot  to  smoke 
or  to  walk,  and  after  a  long  while  he  whis- 
pered, — 

"  Ought  I  to  ask  her  to  remain  a  few  days  ?  " 
"  Why,  you  have  given  her  your  answer." 
"  Yes,  but  it  is  one  thing  to  give  her  a  home, 
another  to  let  her  stay  a  few  days." 

Signe  seemed  to  reflect  a  while,  and  said 
finally,  — 

"  You  must  do  as  seems  best  to  you." 
The  priest  felt  inclined  to  consider  the  pro- 
posal somewhat  more  closely,  so  he  walked  to 
and  fro,  smoking  vigorously.     Pausing,  finally 
he  said,  — 


THE   nSHER   MAJDEN.  161 

"  Will  you  go  in,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

"  It  would  certainly  do  more  good  if  you 
were  to  speak  to  her,"  said  the  daughter,  look- 
ing up,  lovingly. 

He  was  just  about  taking  hold  of  the  door- 
knob, when  a  burst  of  laughter  rang  out  from 
the  next  room,  —  then  all  was  still,  and  then 
came  another  loud  peal.  The  priest,  who  had 
started  back,  hurried  forward  again,  his  daugh- 
ter following  him,  for  they  were  both  sure  that 
the  stranger  must  have  suddenly  become  ill. 

On  opening  the  door  they  beheld  Petra  sit- 
ting where  she  had  first  dropped  down,  and  in 
front  of  her  lay  an  open  book,  over  which  she 
had  cast  herself  without  being  -  aware  of  it. 
Her  tears  had  rolled  down  on  its  leaves,  and 
seeing  this  she  had  made  an  effort  to  remove 
their  traces,  when  she  was  attracted  by  one  of 
those  coarse  expressions,  which  she  well  re- 
membered from  her  street  life,  but  which  she 
could  never  have  believed  any  book  would  ven- 
ture to  reproduce.  Thoroughly  aghast  she  for- 
got to  weep,  and  sat  staring  at  the  book. 
What  madness  in  the  world  could  this  be  I 
She  read  with  mouth  wide  open  ;  it  grew  worse 
and  worse,  so  coarse?,  but  so  irresistibly  ludi- 
crous that  she  could  not  possibly  help  reading 
on.  She  read  until  she  had  lost  consciousness 
u 


162  THE   nSHEB  MAIDEN. 

of  everything  about  her ;  she  read  herself  away 
from  care  and  sorrow,  from  time  and  place, 
with  old  Father  Holberg,  for  it  was  he !  She 
laughed,  she  roared  with  laughter,  even  now 
that  the  priest  and  his  daughter  were  stand- 
ing over  her,  she  did  not  see  their  earnestness, 
did  not  remember  her  errand,  but  laughing, 
asked,  — 

"  What  is  this  ?  What  in  all  the  world  is 
this  ?  "  and  she  herself  turned  to  the  title-page. 

Then  the  color  forsook  her  face  ;  she  looked 
up  at  them,  then  down  again  into  the  book  at 
those  familiar  strokes.  There  are  some  things 
that  strike  the  heart  with  the  force  of  a  bullet, 
things  we  think  we  have  fled  a  hundred  miles 
away  from,  but  which  unexpectedly  rise  up 
and  confront  us.  Here  on  the  first  page  was 
written,  "  Hans  Odegaard."  Her  face  became 
suffused  with  hot  blushes.  Petra  sprang  up, 
crying,  — 

"  Is  this  book  his  ?     Is  he  coming  here  ?  " 

"  He  has  promised  to  do  so,"  replied  Signe. 

And  now  Petra  remembered  that  there  was 
a  priest's  family  in  the  diocese  of  Bergen, 
whom  Odegaard  had  met  when  traveling 
abroad.  She  had  only  been  moving  round  in  a 
circle ;  she  had  fled  straight  towards  him. 

"  Is  he  likely  to  come  soon  ?     Is  he  perhapi 


THE   FISHER  MAroKJ.  163 

hero  already  ?  "  She  seemed  reatly  to  renew 
her  flight  immediately. 

"  No,  indeed,  he  is  ill,"  said  Signe. 

"  Ah,  that  is  true,  he  is  ill,"  repeated  Potra, 
in  a  tone  of  anguish. 

"  But  tell  me,"  burst  out  Signe,  "you  surely 
cannot  be  "  — 

"  The  fisher  maiden  ?  "  completed  the  priest. 

*'  Yes,  I  am  the  fisher  maiden,"  said  Petra, 
bestowing  on  him  a  look  of  entreaty. 

They  knew  her  well  here,  for  Odegaard  had 
talked  of  nothing  else. 

"  This  alters  the  case,"  said  the  priest,  who 
perceived  that  here  there  was  something  bro- 
ken, something  that  needed  the  aid  of  friends. 
"  You  may  remain  for  the  present,"  he  added. 

Petra  raised  her  eyes,  and  as  she  did  so,  she 
saw  the  look  of  thanks  his  daughter  bestowed 
on  him.  This  did  her  so  much  good  that  she 
walked  right  up  to  Signe,  took  both  her  hands, 
—  more  she  dare  not  do,  —  and  said,  very 
bashfully,  though, — 

"  I  will  tell  you  all  as  soon  as  we  two  are 
alone." 

An  hour  later  Signe  knew  Petra's  whole  his- 
tory and  immediately  imparted  it  to  her  father. 
According  to  liis  advice  Signe  wrote  the  same 
Hay  to  Odegaard,  and  continued  to  do  so  h»< 
*ong  as  Petra  remained  in  the  house. 


164  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

But  when  Petra  lay  clown  to  rest  that  even- 
ing on  the  large  feather  bed  in  the  cosy  cham* 
ber,  with  c  adding  birch-wood  in  the  stove, 
and  the  New  Testament  between  the  two  can- 
dles on  the  snowy -white  dressing-table,  she 
gave  thanks  to  her  God,  as  she  grasped  the 
Book,  for  all  He  had  given  her,  the  evil  as  well 
as  the  good. 

The  priest,  as  a  young  man  with  ardent  nat- 
ure and  native  powers  of  eloquence,  had  wished 
to  study  theology.  His  wealthy  parents  had 
opposed  him  in  this ;  they  preferred  to  see 
him  choose  what  they  called  an  independent 
calling;  but  their  opposition  only  increased 
his  zeal,  and  when  he  had  taken  his  degree 
he  went  abroad  to  continue  his  studies.  Dur- 
ing a  preliminary  sojourn  in  Denmark  he  fre- 
quently met  a  lady  who  belonged  to  a  sect 
which  did  not  seem  to  him  rigorous  enough  in 
its  views,  and  to  which  he  was  consequently 
averse.  He  was  continually  desiring  to  influ- 
ence her  ;  but  the  manner  in  which  she  looked 
at  him  and  thereby  silenced  him,  whenever 
he  attempted  to  do  so,  he  could  never  forget 
during  the  whole  time  he  remained  abroad. 
When  he  returned  to  Denmark  he  sought  hei 
%t  once.     They  passed   much   time   together 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  166 

and  grew  in  each  other's  favor,  until  they  be- 
came engaged  and  were  shortly  after  married. 
Now,  however,  it  proved  that  each  had  cher- 
ished a  secret  thought:  he  had  proposed  to 
draw  her  womanly  gi-ace  over  to  his  gloomy 
doctrines;  while  she  had  felt  a  child-like  confi- 
dence that  she  could  enlist  all  his  power  and 
eloquence  in  the  service  of  her  religion.  His 
first  faint  effort  was  met  by  her  equally  feeble 
one ;  he  drew  back  disappointed,  suspicious. 
She  was  not  slow  to  perceive  this,  and  thence- 
forth he  was  perpetually  on  his  guard  against 
her  efforts,  she  on  her  guard  against  his.  Nei- 
ther of  them,  however,  ever  made  another  at- 
tempt; for  they  had  both  become  alarmed. 
He  was  afraid  of  his  own  passionate  nature, 
and  she  feared  that  an  unsuccessful  attempt 
might  ruin  her  chances  of  winning  hira,  for  she 
never  relinquished  her  hope  ;  this  had  become 
her  life  task.  But  there  never  was  any  con- 
test ;  for  where  she  was  no  strife  was  possible. 
His  active  will,  his  suppressed  passion,  must 
have  an  outlet,  and  this  they  found  each  time 
he  ascended  the  pulpit  and  saw  her  sitting  be- 
low. Irresistibly  he  drew  the  congregation  into 
the  vortex  with  him  ;  he  created  a  general  agi- 
tation, and  was  excited  thereby  in  return.  See- 
ing this  her  troubled  heart  foond  solace  in  be- 


166  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

nevolence,  and  by  and  by,  when  she  became  a 
mother,  she  took  her  daughter  in  bodily  and 
spiritual  embrace  and  made  the  child  share  her 
own  hours  of  solitude.  There  she  gave,  there 
she  received,  there  she  cradled,  her  own  cher- 
ished views  in  her  child's  innocent  heart ;  there 
slie  held  a  love  feast,  and  from  it  she  came 
back  to  him,  that  stem  man,  with  the  combined 
gentleness  of  the  woman  and  the  Christian. 
At  such  times  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  say 
anything  that  was  not  kind.  He  could  not 
help  loving  her  beyond  all  else  on  earth ;  but 
all  the  more  sorrowful  did  this  make  him,  all 
the  more  did  his  heart  bleed  that  he  could  not 
help  her  to  work  out  her  salvation.  With  a 
mother's  quietly  asserted  right  she  removed 
her  child,  too,  from  his  religious  instructions. 
Soon  the  child's  songs,  the  child's  questions, 
were  a  new  source  of  pain  to  him  ;  and  when  in 
the  pulpit  he  became  wrought  up  to  harshness 
through  his  violent  emotions,  his  wife  only  met 
him  with  increased  mildness  when  they  set  out 
together  for  home  ;  her  eyes  spoke,  but  her  lips 
uttered  not  a  word.  And  the  little  daughter 
clung  to  his  band  and  looked  up  at  him  with 
eyes  that  were  her  mother's. 

Every  subject  was  discussed  in  their  home 
except  the  one  which  was  the  root  of  all  theij 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  167 

thoughts.  Bat  such  an  exhausting  stram  conld 
not  last  any  great  length  of  time.  She  contin- 
ued to  smile,  but  only  because  she  dared  not 
weep.  When  the  time  approached  for  the 
daughter  to  prepare  for  confirmation,  and  he 
by  virtue  of  his  office  could  draw  her  as  quietly 
over  to  his  instruction  as  the  mother  had  hith- 
erto held  her  under  hers,  the  tension  reached 
its  climax,  and  after  the  sermon,  when  the 
names  of  the  candidates  for  confirmation  were 
announced,  the  mother  fell  ill,  in  about  the 
same  way  that  people  usually  become  weary. 
She  said,  smilingly,  that  now  she  could  not  walk 
any  more,  and  a  few  days  later,  quite  as  smil- 
ingly, that  now  she  could  not  sit  up  any  longer 
either.  She  wanted  her  daughter  with  her  all 
the  time,  for,  although  she  could  not  talk  with 
her,  she  could  look  at  her.  And  the  daughter, 
knowing  what  her  mother  liked  best,  read  to 
her  from  the  Book  of  Life  and  sang  to  her  the 
hymns  she  had  taught  her  in  childhood,  those 
new,  cheerful  hymns  of  the  religious  society  to 
which  the  mother  belonged.  The  priest  for  a 
long  time  failed  to  comprehend  what  was  in 
store  for  him  ;  but  when  he  understood  it  all 
else  vanished,  he  could  think  of  but  one  thinp^, 
and  that  was  to  have  her  say  something  to 
him,  just  a  few   words.      This,  however,  she 


168  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

WB8  unable  to  do ;  she  could  no  longer  speak. 
He  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  gazing  at  hei 
and  entreating  her ;  she  smiled  at  him  until  he 
fell  on  his  knees,  and  grasping  the  daughter's 
hand,  placed  it  in  the  mother's,  as  though  he 
would  say,  "  Here,  keep  her  —  she  shall  be 
yours  forever  I  "  Then  the  mother  smiled,  as 
she  had  never  smiled  before,  and  with  the 
smile  still  on  her  lips  she  passed  away  from 
him. 

For  a  long  time  after  this  no  one  could  gain 
access  to  the  priest ;  another  was  appointed  to 
assume  the  charge  of  his  parish;  he  himself 
went  wandering  about  from  room  to  room,  from 
spot  to  spot,  as  though  seeking  something.  He 
stepped  softly ;  when  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  sub- 
dued tone,  and  only  by  falling  wholly  into  his 
hushed  ways  could  his  daughter  gradually  suc- 
ceed in  entering  into  fellowship  with  him. 
Now  she  aided  him  in  his  search ;  the  mother's 
words  were  all  called  up ;  her  wishes  became 
the  law  according  to  which  they  proceeded. 
The  daughter's  intercourse  with  her,  from  which 
he  had  been  shut  out,  he  now  for  the  first  time 
entered  into.  From  the  first  moment  the  child 
could  recollect,  everything  was  lived  through 
anew;    the  mother's  hymns  were  sung,  her 


THE   nSHER  MAIDEN.  169 

prayera  were  prayed,  the  sermons  she  had  been 
fondest  of  were  read  one  by  one,  and  her  inter- 
pretations, her  remarks,  faithfully  recalled. 
Thus  roused  to  activity,  the  priest  soon  felt  a 
desire  to  visit  the  spot  whero  ho  had  found  her, 
in  order  that  he  might  in  the  same  way  follow 
in  her  footsteps.  They  went,  and  he  regained 
his  health  by  thoroughly  making  her  life  his 
own.  A  beginner  himself,  he  keenly  appre- 
ciated all  beginnings  about  him,  the  great 
national  ones,  the  lesser  political  ones;  and 
this  restored  to  him  his  youth.  His  powers 
streamed  back  upon  him,  his  yearnings  at  the 
same  time  —  now  he  wanted  to  proclaim  the 
Word  so  that  it  might  be  a  prepar&,tion  for  life 
as  well  as  for  death  ! 

Before  again  shutting  himself  up  in  his 
mountain  parish  with  his  beloved  work,  he  felt 
an  impulse  to  take  a  wider  view  of  the  outside 
world.  So  he  and  his  daughter  extended  their 
travels,  and  now  their  lives  were  filled  with  the 
grandest  remembrances. 

A.mong  these  people  Petra  lived. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

In  the  third  year  of  her  sojourn  here,  one 
Friday,  a  few  days  before  Christmas,  the  two 
girls  were  sitting  together  in  the  dusk  of  the 
evening ;  the  priest  had  just  come  in  with  his 
pipe.  The  day  had  been  passed  as  most  others 
during  these  two  years ;  it  had  begun  with  a 
walk,  and  after  breakfast  an  hour  had  been 
spent  in  playing  and  singing,  next  came  lan- 
guage lessons  or  other  studies,  and  then  a  little 
time  devoted  to  household  matters.  In  the 
afternoon  they  retired  to  their  own  rooms,  and 
to-day  Signe  had  been  writing  to  Odegaard, 
after  whom  Petra  never  inquired ;  indeed,  she 
never  could  bear  any  reference  to  the  past. 
Toward  evening  they  had  gone  coasting,  and 
had  now  met  to  talk  and  sing,  or  later,  to  read 
aloud.  It  was  at  such  times  the  priest  always 
joined  them.  He  was  a  remarkably  fine  reader 
and  so  was  his  daughter.  Petra  learned  the 
style  of  both,  but  especially  their  language. 
Sigue's  pronunciation  and  the  inflections  of  her 
voice  had  a  great  charm  for  Petra,  and  the  mu 


THE  FISUEB   MAIDEN.  171 

aical  tones  kept  ringing  in  her  ear  when  she 
was  alone.  Altogether,  Petra  held  Signe  in 
such  high  esteem  that  a  man  would  have  taken 
a  fourth  of  such  devotion  for  strong  love ;  she 
often  positively  made  Signe  blush.  As  the 
priest  and  his  daughter  rend  aloud  every  even- 
ing, —  Petra  could  not  be  induced  to  take  act- 
ive part  in  the  readings,  —  they  had  become 
quite  familiar  with  the  prominent  authors  of 
northern  literature,  and  had  also  made  consid- 
erable progress  in  the  acquaintance  of  the 
works  of  well-known  foreign  authors.  The 
dramatists  were  chiefly  read. 

Just  as  they  were  about  lighting  the  lamps 
to  begin  this  evening,  the  kitchen-maid  came  in 
to  say  that  there  was  some  one  outside  who 
had  a  message  for  Petra.  It  proved  to  be  a 
sailor  from  Petra's  native  town,  whom  her 
mother  had  charged  to  seek  her,  as  he  was 
coming  in  that  direction.  He  had  walked 
nearly  seven  miles,  and  must  hurry  ofif  again, 
as  his  ship  was  about  to  sail.  Petra  accompa- 
nied him  part  of  the  way,  desiring  to  talk  fur- 
ther wdth  him,  for  she  knew  him  to  be  a  trusty 
man.  It  was  a  very  cloudy  night ;  there  was 
no  light  in  any  of  the  parsonage  windows,  ex- 
cept those  of  the  laundry,  where  a  large  wash- 
ing was  being  done ;  profound  darkness  reigned 


172  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

along  the  road  ;  it  was  scarcely  possible  to  dis- 
tinguish the  path  until  the  moon  rose  triumph 
antly  above  the  mountains.  Still  Petra  walked 
bravely  onward,  and  fearlessly  entered  the  for- 
est, although  mysterious,  unearthly  shadows 
crept  about  among  the  fir-trees.  One  piece  of 
news  which  had  especially  tempted  her  to  follow 
the  sailor  was  that  Pedro  Ohlsen's  mother  was 
dead,  and  that  he  himself  had  sold  his  house 
and  moved  to  Gunlaug's,  where  he  now  occu- 
pied Petra's  loft  chamber.  This  had  happened 
nearly  two  years  since,  but  Petra's  mother  had 
not  said  a  word  about  it  in  her  letters.  Petra 
could  now  readily  conjecture  who  it  was  wrote 
these  for  her  mother.  She  had  often  inquired, 
but  had  received  no  reply,  and  yet  every  letter 
ended  with  the  words :  "  and  a  greeting  from 
the  person  who  writes  the  letter."  The  sailor's 
errand  was  to  ask  how  long  Petra  intended  to 
remain  at  the  parsonage  and  what  plans  she 
had  for  the  future.  To  the  first  question  she 
replied  that  she  did  not  know,  and  to  the  second 
that  he  might  tell  her  mother  there  was  but  one 
thing  in  the  world  she  wished  to  do,  and  if  she 
failed  in  that  she  would  be  unhappy  her  whole 
life  ;  but  for  the  present  she  could  not  tell  what 
't  was. 

While  Petra  was  walking  and  talking  with 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  178 

the  Bailor,  the  priest  and  Signe  remained  be- 
hind in  the  sitting-room,  speaking  of  her  who 
was  such  a  source  of  joy  to  them  both.  They 
were  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  the  over- 
seer, and  after  he  had  rendered  his  account  for 
the  day,  he  asked  if  either  of  them  knew  that 
the  young  lady  who  was  staying  with  them  was 
in  the  habit  of  leaving  her  room  at  night  by 
means  of  a  rope-ladder  and  returning  in  the 
same  way.  He  was  obliged  to  repeat  this  three 
times  before  either  of  them  understood  what  he 
meant;  he  might  just  as  well  have  announced 
to  them  that  it  was  her  wont  to  walk  back  and 
forth  on  the  moonbeams.  It  was  dark  in  the 
room,  and  now  it  became  perfectly  still ;  not 
even  the  puffing  from  the  priest's  pipe  was 
heard. 

"  Who  has  seen  this  ? "  said  the  priest  at 
last,  in  a  forced,  husky  tone  of  voice. 

"I  saw  it  myself.  I  was  up  foddering  the 
horses ;  it  must  have  been  about  one  o'clock." 

"  You  saw  her  going  down  a  rope-ladder  ?  " 

"  And  up  again." 

Another  long  pause.  Petra's  room  was  in 
the  upper  story,  in  the  corner  facing  the  avenue 
leading  to  the  house.  She  was  alone  up  there, 
no  one  else  had  a  room  on  that  side  of  the 
bouse.     There  could,  therefore,  be  no  mistake. 


174  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

"  It  is  quite  possible  she  may  have  done  it  in 
her  sleep,"  said  the  servant,  and  was  about  to 
withdraw. 

"  Yes,  but  she  could  not  have  made  a  rope- 
ladder  in  her  sleep,"  said  the  priest. 

"  Well,  that  was  what  I  thought  myself  • 
and  so  it  seemed  to  me  best  to  tell  you  about 
it,  sir.  I  have  not  spoken  of  it  to  any  one 
else." 

"  Has  any  one  beside  yourself  seen  this  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  if  you  doubt  it,  sir,  the  ladder  it- 
self will,  I  suppose,  be  proof  enough.  If  it  is  not 
up  in  her  chamber  I  must  have  seen  wrong." 

The  priest  rose  at  once. 

"  Father  I "  entreated  Signe. 

"  Bring  a  light  I "  replied  the  priest,  in  a 
tone  that  admitted  of  no  opposition. 

Signe  lighted  a  candle. 

"  Father  I "  she  once  more  implored,  as  she 
handed  it  to  him. 

"  Yes;  I  am  her  father  as  well  as  yours,  as 
long  as  she  remains  in  my  house,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  look  into  this." 

The  priest  went  on  in  advance  with  the 
light,  Signe  and  the  overseer  following.  Ev- 
erything was  in  perfect  order  in  the  little 
room,  only  the  table  in  front  of  the  bed  was 
covered  with  open  books,  piled  one  upon  ai> 
vther. 


THE   nSHEB   MAIDEN.  176 

"  Does  she  read  at  night  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know ;  but  she  never  puts  out  her 
light  before  one  o'clock." 

The  priest  and  Signe  exchanged  glances.  It 
was  customary  at  the  parsonage  to  retire  for 
the  night  from  ten  to  half-past  ten,  and  to  as- 
semble  again  in  the  morning  between  six  and 
seven. 

"  Do  you  know  anything  of  this  ?  "  asked  the 
father. 

Signe  made  no  reply.  But  the  overseer,  who 
was  on  his  knees  in  the  comer  making  a  search, 
answered,  — 

"  She  is  not  alone." 

«'  What  is  that  you  say  ?  " 

"Why,  there  is  always  some  one  talking 
with  her,  and  they  often  speak  very  loud.  I 
have  beard  her  both  begging  for  mercy  and 
herself  uttering  threats.  No  doubt  she  is  in 
some  one's  power,  poor  thing !  " 

Signe  turned  away;  the  priest  had  grown 
deathly  pale. 

"  And  here  is  the  ladder,"  continued  the 
man,  producing  the  article  as  he  spoke,  and 
rising  to  his  feet.  The  ladder  was  formed  by 
two  clothes-lines,  fastened  together  by  a  third, 
which  was  tied  in  a  knot,  then  drawn  across 
and  tied  in  another  knot,  at  a  distance  of  about 


176  THE  FISHER  MATOEN. 

half  a  yard,  and  thus  ranning  back  and  for* 
ward  formed  steps. 

"  Was  she  gone  long  ?  "  asked  the  priest. 

The  overseer  looked  at  him. 

"Gone  where?" 

"  Did  she  stay  away  long  after  she  came 
down  the  ladder  ?  " 

Signe  was  shivering  with  cold  and  terror. 

"  She  did  not  go  anywhere ;  she  went  up 
again." 

"  Up  again  ?    Then  who  did  go  away  ?  " 

Signe  turned  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  There  could  not  have  been  any  one  with 
her  then  ;  that  was  last  evening." 

"  So,  no  one  was  on  the  ladder  but  herself  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  And  she  went  down  and  directly  up 
again  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  She  has  only  wanted  to  try  it,  I  suppose," 
said  the  priest,  drawing  a  long  breath,  as  though 
somewhat  relieved. 

"  Yes,  before  she  allowed  any  one  else  to  get 
on  it,"  added  the  overseer. 

The  priest  looked  at  him. 

"  You  think,  then,  this  is  not  the  fhnat  one 
she  has  made  ?  " 

"  Of  course  it  is  not.  How  else  could  peo- 
ple have  come  to  her  room  ?  " 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  177 

"Has  it  been  long  since  you  knew  of  any 
one  coming  to  her  ?  " 

"  Not  until  this  winter,  when  she  began  to 
use  a  light ;  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  come 
down  here  before." 

"  Then  you  have  known  this  the  whole  win- 
ter. Why  have  you  not  told  of  it  before  ?  "  the 
priest  asked,  sternly. 

"  I  supposed  that  it  was  one  of  the  household 
that  was  with  her;  but  when  I  saw  her  last 
night  on  the  ladder  I  first  thought  it  might  be 
some  one  else.  Had  it  struck  me  sooner,  I 
should  have  spoken  of  it." 

"  Well,  it  is  plain  enough,  she  has  deceived 
us  all!" 

Signe  raised  her  eyes  in  sUent  entreaty. 

"  She  ought  not,  perhaps,  to  have  her  room 
BO  far  away  from  the  rest,"  suggested  the  over- 
seer, as  he  rolled  up  the  ladder. 

"  After  this  she  ought  not  to  have  a  room 
anywhere  in  this  house,"  said  the  priest,  and 
left  the  room,  the  rest  following  him.  But 
when  he  got  down-stairs  and  had  put  the  light 
on  the  table,  Signe  came  and  flung  herself  into 
his  arms. 

"  Yes,  my  child,  this  is  a  bitter  disappoint 
ment,"  said  he. 

12 


178  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

A  few  momenta  later,  Signe  eat  in  the  comer 
of  the  sofa,  with  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes : 
the  priest  had  lighted  his  pipe  and  was  rapidly 
pacing  the  floor.    All  at  once  they  were  aroused 
by  screams  from  the  kitchen  and  hurried  steps 
were  heard  on  the  stairs  and  rushing  along  the 
passage   above.     Both   hastened   out.     Petra's 
chamber  was  on  fire !     A  spark  from  the  can- 
dle had  fallen  in  the  corner,  —  for  it  was  from 
there  the  fire  came,  —  had  swept  along  the  wall 
paper,   and   was   approaching    the  wood-work 
about  the  window,  when  it  was  seen  from  the 
road  by  a  passer-by,  who  had  at  once  run  into 
the  laundry  and  given  the  alarm  to  the  people 
who   were  at  work  washing  there.     The  fire 
was  soon  extinguished ;    but   in   the  country, 
where    everything    has    its    own   monotonous 
course,  year  out  and  year  in,  any  disturbance 
serves  to  throw  the  people  into  a  state  of  com- 
motion.    Fire  is  their  greatest  and  most  dan- 
gerous enemy  ;  it  is  never  out  of  their  thoughts, 
and  when  it  actually  does  appear  some  night, 
thrusting  forth  its  head  from  the  abyss,  and 
greedily  darting  out  its  tongue  after  its  prey, 
the  people  shudder,  and  it  is  weeks  before  thej 
wholly  regain  their  composure ;  some,  indeed, 
never  do  so  throughout  their  lives. 
When  the  priest  and  his  daughter  were  onc« 


THE  FISHEB  MAITEM.  179 

more  alone  in  the  sitting-room  and  had  lighted 
the  lamps,  they  both  felt  uncomfortable  at  the 
thought  that  Petra's  room  had  thus  swiftly 
been  swept  out  by  fire  and  everything  that 
coald  remind  them  of  her  destroyed.  Suddenly 
they  heard  Petra's  clear  voice  asking  questions 
and  exclaiming  aloud.  She  sprang  up-atuirs 
and  down  again,  sped  from  chamber  to  passage 
and  from  passage  to  kitchen,  and  finally  burst 
into  the  room  with  her  outdoor  wraps  still  on. 

"Good  heavens!  my  room  has  been  burned!" 
cried  she. 

There  was  no  reply,  but  in  the  same  breath, 
she  asked,  — 

"Who  has  been  there?    When. did  it  hap- 
pen ?     How  did  the  fire  begin  ?  " 

The  priest  now  said  that  it  was  he  and  Signe 
who  had  been  up  there ;  they  had  been  looking 
for  something,  and  he  fixed  his  eyes  sharply  on 
Petra  as  he  spoke.  But  not  by  the  least  sign 
did  she  show  that  she  thought  this  strange,  nor 
did  she  betray  any  uneasiness  whatever  as  to 
what  they  might  have  seen  in  her  room.  She 
did  not  even  suspect  anything  amiss  when 
Signe  did  not  look  up  from  her  sofa  corner,  but 
iUitributed  this  to  Signe's  fright  and  began  to 
pour  ont  a  volley  of  questions  about  how  the 
fire  had  been  discovered,  how  put  oat,  and  who 


180  THE  nSHEB  MAIDEN. 

had  first  reached  the  spot ;  and  when  she  failed 
to  get  replies  fast  enough  she  darted  out  of  the 
room  as  abruptly  as  she  had  come  in.  Pres- 
ently she  broke  in  again,  having  now  partly 
removed  her  out-door  wraps,  and  fell  to  telling 
the  priest  and  Signe  how  the  whole  thing  had 
happened,  how  she  herself  had  seen  the  flames 
and  hastened  home  with  the  most  alarming 
speed,  and  how  thankful  she  felt  to  find  mat- 
ters no  worse.  While  speaking  she  took  off 
the  rest  of  her  out-door  things,  carried  them 
away,  then  returned,  and  took  her  accustomed 
place  at  the  table,  keeping  up  an  incessant  chat- 
ter about  what  this  one  had  said,  that  one  had 
done.  The  whole  gard  had  been  turned  up- 
side down,  she  reported,  and  this  afforded  her 
infinite  amusement.  As  her  listeners  persisted 
in  their  silence,  she  began  to  express  regret  that 
all  this  excitement  had  spoiled  the  evening 
for  them  ;  she  had  been  looking  forward  with 
so  much  pleasure  to  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  the 
play  they  were  then  reading  aloud,  and  she  had 
intended  that  same  evening  to  ask  Signe  to 
read  aloud  once  more  the  scene  that  seemed  to 
her  the  most  beautiful  of  all :  Romeo's  parting 
from  Juliet  on  the  balcony.  In  the  midst  of 
her  stream  of  words  one  of  the  maids  came  in 
from    the   laundry  to  say  that  they  needed 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  181 

clothes-lines  ;  a  whole  bunch  was  missing.  Pe- 
tal's face  was  speedily  covered  with  blushes. 

'*  I  know  where  they  are ;  I  will  get  them 
for  you,"  she  said,  taking  a  few  steps  forward, 
and  then,  remembering  the  fire,  she  paused  and 
colored  still  more  deeply. 

"But,  —  oh,  dear  I  they  must  be  burned  I 
They  were  in  my  chamber !  " 

Signe  had  turned  eagerly  toward  her.  The 
priest  gave  Petra  a  sharp  side  glance. 

"  What  use  had  you  for  clothes-lines  ? " 
And  his  breath  came  and  went  so  rapidly,  he 
could  scarcely  speak. 

Petra  looked  at  him  ;  his  ten'ible  solemnity 
almost  alarmed  her,  but  in  the  next  moment 
it  tempted  her  to  laughter.  This  she  strove 
against  for  a  while,  but  a  second  glance  at  him 
made  her  burst  into  such  hearty  laughter  that 
it  was  no  longer  of  any  use  to  resist.  There 
was  no  more  evil  conscience  in  her  laugh  than 
in  a  rippling  brook.  Signe  knew  this  from  its 
ring,  and  she  sprang  up  from  the  sofa,  with  — 

"What  is  it?     What  is  it?" 

Petra  turned,  laughed,  bounded  off,  tried  to 
escape,  and  made  for  the  door.  But  Signe 
•tood  in  her  way. 

"  What  is  it  ?    Tell  me,  Petra." 

Petra  buried  her  face  on  Signe's  shoulder, 


182  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

as  though  she  would  thus  hide  herself,  but  she 
oontinued  to  laugh  immoderately.  Nay,  guilt 
does  not  act  thus  I  The  priest,  too,  compre- 
hended this  now.  He  who  was  about  leaping 
up  into  a  towering  rage,  now  instead  came 
tumbling  down  into  the  most  overpowering 
laughter,  and  Signe  followed  his  example. 
Nothing  is  more  infectious  than  laughter,  and 
especially  laughter,  the  cause  of  which  is  not 
quite  clear.  The  vain  efforts  that  now  the 
priest,  now  Signe  made  to  find  out  what  they 
were  laughing  at  only  increased  the  merriment 
to  the  highest  pitch.  The  maid,  who  stood 
waiting,  was  finally  compelled  to  laugh  aloud 
with  them.  She  burst  out  into  one  loud  horse- 
laugh after  the  other,  and  she  felt  herself  that 
it  was  not  in  keeping  with  such  fine  furniture 
and  gentle-folks,  and  so  she  hastened  to  the 
door  to  give  full  vent  to  her  hilarity  in  the 
kitchen.  Thither,  of  course,  she  bore  the  in- 
fection, and  soon  a  perfect  deluge  of  laughter 
came  rolling  in  from  the  kitchen,  where  there 
was  even  less  knowledge  of  its  cause  than  in 
the  parlor,  and  this  kindled  the  laughter  in 
there  anew. 

When  finally  they  were  almost  exhausted, 
Signe  made  a  last  attempt  to  learn  the  meaning 
of  all  this  laughter. 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  188 

"  Now  you  shall  tell  me,"  she  cried,  clinging 
to  Petra's  hand. 

"  No  ;  not  for  all  the  world  1 " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  know  already  what  it  is  I "  she 
cried  again. 

Petra  looked  at  her  and  uttered  a  scream  ; 
but  Signe  exclaimed,  — 

"  Father  knows  all  about  it,  too." 

Petra  did  not  scream  now,  she  fairly  yelled, 
and,  tearing  herself  away,  fled  to  the  passage- 
door  ;  but  there  Signe  caught  her  again.  Then 
Petra  turned  to  struggle  with  her ;  she  was  de- 
termined to  get  away  at  any  cost ;  she  laughed 
as  she  kept  struggling,  but  tears  were  in  her 
eyes.  This  made  Signe  let  go.  Out  rushed 
Petra,  Signe  after  her,  and  both  darted  into 
Signe's  chamber.  There  Signe  seized  Petra 
about  the  neck,  and  Petra  flung  her  arms 
around  Signe. 

"  Good  heavens !  Do  you  know  it  ?  "  whis- 
pered Petra,  and  Signe  whispered  in  reply:  — 

"  Yes,  we  were  up  in  your  room  with  the 
overseer ;  he  had  seen  you  —  and  we  found  the 
ladder." 

Another  shriek  and  a  fresh  flight,  but  this 
time  only  as  far  as  the  sofa  comer,  where  Petra 
took  refuge.  Signe  soon  followed  her,  and, 
bending   over  her,   poured    into   her  ear   the 


184  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

whole  story  of  the  voyage  of  discovery  and  its 
fiery  results.  That  which  but  a  brief  period 
earlier  had  caused  her  both  tears  and  alarm 
now  struck  her  as  amusing,  and  she  related  it 
with  considerable  humor.  Petra  alternately 
listened  and  stopped  her  ears,  looked  up,  and 
buried  her  face.  When  Signe  had  finished  and 
they  were  both  sitting  side  by  side  in  the  dark, 
Petra  whispered :  — 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  all  means  ?  I  can- 
not possibly  sleep  at  ten  o'clock  when  we  go 
each  to  our  rooms,  what  we  have  been  reading 
has  too  much  power  over  me.  So  I  commit  to 
memory  all  the  finest  passages,  and  in  this  way 
I  know  whole  scenes  by  heart  and  repeat  them 
aloud  to  myself.  When  we  came  to  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  it  seemed  to  me  that  nothing  in  the 
world  could  be  more  lovely ;  I  grew  perfectly 
wild  about  it,  and  I  could  not  help  making  that 
attempt  with  the  rope-ladder.  It  had  never 
occurred  to  me  before  that  any  one  could  go  up 
and  down  on  a  rope-ladder.  I  got  hold  of  some 
clothes-lines,  and  that  rogue,  it  seems,  was 
standing  below  watching  me.  Indeed,  it  is  no 
laughing  matter,  Signe ;  it  is  so  tom-boyish  ;  I 
never  shall  be  anything  but  a  tom-boy ;  and 
now,  of  course,  to-morrow  I  shall  be  the  talk  of 
the  whole  parish  ! " 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  185 

But  Signe,  who  liad  been  seized  by  a  fresh 
fit  of  laughter,  fell  over  Petra  with  kisses  and 
caresses,  and  exclaimed :  — 

"  Ah,  father  must  know  this  I  " 

"  Are  you  mad,  Signe  ?  " 

Down  they  ran  to  the  sitting-room,  one  after 
the  other,  with  the  same  speed  they  had  left  it. 
At  the  door  they  almost  upset  the  priest,  who 
was  just  about  leaving  the  room  to  see  what  had 
become  of  them.  Signe  began  her  story.  Pe- 
tra, with  a  scream,  ran  off  once  more,  but 
paused  outside  of  the  door,  recollecting  that  she 
should  remain  to  prevent  Signe  from  telling  it ; 
so  she  thought  she  would  go  in  again,  but  the 
priest  held  the  door ;  it  was  impossible  to  get 
it  open.  She  pounded  on  it  with  both  hands, 
sang,  stamped  her  feet  on  the  ground,  in  order 
to  drown  Signe's  voice ;  but  Signe  only  spoke 
the  louder,  and  when  the  priest  had  heard  the 
whole  and  had  laughed  as  heartily  as  Signe 
over  this  new  method  of  studying  the  classics, 
he  opened  the  door ;  but  then  Petra  ran  away. 

After  supper,  at  which  Petra  had  been  pres- 
ent and  had  been  duly  teased  by  the  priest,  she 
was  condemned,  by  way  of  punishment,  to  re- 
peat what  she  knew.  It  proved  that  she  knew 
the  most  famous  scenes,  and  not  merely  one 
rSle  in  each  but  all  the  parts.     She  recited  just 


186  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

as  they  had  been  in  the  habit  of  reading ;  at 
times  there  was  a  flash  of  fire  in  her  manner, 
but  she  quickly  smothered  it.  No  sooner  did 
the  priest  observe  this  than  he  called  for  more 
expression,  but  she  only  grew  the  more  shy. 
They  went  on  and  on,  they  continued  for  hours 
she  knew  the  comic  scenes  as  well  as  the  tragic 
ones,  the  playful  as  well  as  the  serious ;  her 
memory  aroused  both  their  surprise  and  their 
laughter  ;  she  laughed  herself  and  begged  them 
only  to  try,  too. 

"  I  really  wish  the  poor  actresses  had  an 
eighth  part  as  good  faculties  as  you  have,"  said 
Signe. 

"  God  forbid  that  she  should  ever  become 
a  play-actor  I  "  exclaimed  the  priest,  suddenly 
turning  grave. 

"  Why,  father,  I  hope  you  do  not  think  Pe- 
tra  has  any  such  idea  ?  "  cried  Signe,  laughing. 
"  I  only  spoke  of  actors  because  I  have  always 
found,  without  exception,  that  those  who  from 
their  youth  up  have  been  trained  to  a  knowl- 
edge of  the  poetry  of  their  own  land  have  not 
the  least  desire  to  go  on  the  stage,  while  those 
who  have  very  little  acquaintance  with  poetry 
antil  they  are  grown  up,  rave  about  the  stage 
it  is  the  suddenly  aroused  yearning  that  carries 
them  away." 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  187 

'*  Tliat  is  doubtless  very  true,"  said  the 
priest.  "  We  certainly  rarely  find  a  person  of 
any  education  on  the  stage.'* 

"  And  still  more  rarely  one  who  has  had  po- 
etic culture." 

^'  Yes,  and  when  this  does  happen,  it  is 
doubtless  due  to  some  lack  in  the  character 
which  permits  variety  and  frivolity  to  gain  the 
upper  hand.  I  have  met  with  many  actors, 
both  in  my  student  days  and  during  my  travels, 
but  I  have  never  known,  nor  have  I  heard  of 
any  one  else  knowing,  one  who  led  a  truly 
Christian  life.  They  may  have  felt  a  desire 
for  it  —  that  I  have  seen  ;  but  there  is  so  much 
restlessness,  so  many  disturbing  influences,  in 
their  career,  that  they  find  it  impossible  to 
gain  control  over  themselves,  even  long  after 
they  have  left  the  stage.  Whenever  I  have 
spoken  with  them  about  this,  they  have  admit- 
ted it  themselves  and  deplored  it;  but  soon, 
however,  they  have  added :  '  We  must  console 
Girselves  with  the  fact  that,  after  all,  we  are 
no  worse  than  so  many  others.'  But  this  is 
what  I  call  a  poor  consolation.  A  life  that  in 
nowise  tends  to  build  up  the  Christian  charac- 
ter within  us  is  a  sinful  one.  The  Lord  have 
mercy  on  all  who  must  lead  a  life  like  this, 
and  may  He  keep  from  it  all  who  are  pure  in 
heart  I" 


188  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  the  priest  was  up 
as  usual  before  seven,  went  on  his  morning 
rounds  among  his  work-people,  then  took  a 
longer  walk  and  came  home  at  day-break. 
Just  as  he  was  passing  the  house  into  the  court- 
yard, he  espied  an  open  exercise-book,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort,  which  doubtless  had  been 
thrown  out  of  Petra's  window  and  not  found 
because  it  was  the  color  of  the  snow.  He 
picked  up  the  book  and  carried  it  into  the 
study.  As  he  spread  it  out  to  dry,  he  observed 
that  it  was  a  discarded  French  exercise-book 
in  which  verses  were  now  written.  It  did  not 
occur  to  him  to  look  at  these  verses,  but  his 
eye  accidentally  fell  on  the  word  "  actress," 
written  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  every- 
where —  it  was  even  to  be  seen  in  the  verses. 
He  sat  down  to  examine  it  more  fully. 

After  many  attempts  and  erasures,  he  found 
the  following  rhymes,  which,  although  still  full 
of  corrections,  could  readily  be  deciphered :  — 

"  Dear,  come  hither,  and  listen  to  me. 
While  I  whisper  you  trustfully  what  I  would  be ! 
I  would  fain  be  an  actress,  and  show  to  mankind 
The  heart  of  a  woman,  her  passions,  her  mind ; 
How  she  smiles  and  delights,  how  she  mourns  and  deplores; 
How  wholly  she  trusts,  how  fondly  adores : 
How  she  smiles  down  on  life,  when  tender  and  winning ! 
How  she  blights  like  a  curse,  when  scornful  and  sinning ! 
0  God !  on  my  knees,  Thine  assistance  I  claim ! 
DeTote  Thou  my  life  to  this  one  cherished  aim!  " 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  189 

A  little  below  was  written  the  following 
lines:  — 

"  0  God,  among  Thy  glorious  band 
Of  workers  let  me  take  my  stand ! " 

Then  below  this,  again,  probably  by  way  of 
a  commentary  to  a  poem  they  had  read  some 
months  before :  — 

"  Roaming,  rambling  over  the  lea, 
Airily, 
I  '11  away,  away, 
A  naiad  —  a  fay  — 
With  a  ladder  of  moonbeams  ander  my  arm  — 

Wanly! 
A  ladder  of  moonbeams,  wrought  by  a  charm, 
Of  moonbeams  and  mist. 
By  the  long  grasses  kissed, 
As  I  hide  there,  or  wander  wherever  I  list 
If  any  dare  peep,  as  I  'm  flashing  aloAg, 
If  any  dare  list,  while  I  warble  my  song. 

He  shall  die  1 
Shall  he  die  ?    Nay,  sorely  t  'were  wrong." 

Then,  after  many  erasures  and  crossings 
over,  designs,  and  notes,  came :  — 

"Hop,  sa,  sa — hop,  sa,  sa. 
Dancing  with  all,  bat  with  no  one  remaining, 

Tra,  la,  la — tra,  la,  la, 
Winning  all  hearts,  bat  my  own  heart  retaining." 

Then  distinctly  and  clearly  the  following  let- 
ter:— 


My  heabt's  Henet  :  —  Do  you  not  think 
ihat  you  and  I  are  the  cleyerest  ones  in  the 


190  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

whole  oomedy  ?  It  will  cause  ua  great  annoy- 
ance ;  but  that  does  not  signify :  I  empower 
yen  to  accompany  me  to  the  masquerade  to- 
morrow evening,  for  I  have  never  been  to  one, 
and  I  long  for  some  genuine  mad  pranks,  be- 
canae  it  is  so  very  quiet  and  dull  in  this  house. 

You  are  a  great  rogue,  Henry  I  Whither 
are  you  wandering,  pray,  while  here  sits  your 

Pernillb? 

Last  of  all  was  written  in  large  letters,  dis- 
tinctly and  over  and  over  again,  the  following 
verse,  she  must  have  found  somewhere,  and 
had  taken  this  means  of  committing  it  to  mem- 
ory : — 

"  Thongfats  beyond  my  thoa^t's  control 

Wak.e  a  tnmalt  in  my  soul ; 
They  are  strong  and  I  am  weak, 
Power  to  give  them  birth  I  seek. 
Thou,  who  gavest  them  to  me, 
Loke  bind,  set  Balder  free, 
Satisfy  the  thirst  for  Thee ; 
Water  from  the  hidden  spring 
Give  me  grace  for  men  to  bring." 

Many  other  things  besides  were  written 
there,  but  the  priest  read  no  more. 

So,  then,  it  was  in  order  to  become  an  act- 
ress that  she  had  come  into  his  house  and  re- 
ceived instructions  from  his  daughter.  It  was 
for  this  secret  purpose  she  had  listened  so  ea- 


THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN.  191 

gerly  while  they  read  aloud  every  evening  and 
committed  it  all  to  memory  when  she  was 
alone.  She  had  been  deceiving  them  the  whole 
time ;  even  yesterday,  when  she  had  pretended 
to  open  her  heart  to  them,  she  had  been  con- 
cealing something  ;  when  she  was  laughing  the 
most  heartily  she  was  cheating  them. 

And  this  secret  pnrpose  of  hers  I  That 
which  the  priest  had  so  often  condemned  in  her 
presence,  she  glorified  as  a  divine  calling  and 
dared  to  invoke  God's  blessing  on  it  I  A  life 
replete  with  exterior  show  and  frivolity,  idle- 
ness and  sensuality,  deceit  and  ever-increasing 
instability  of  character,  a  life  over  which  vul- 
tures hover  as  over  carrion  ;  it  was  to  this  she 
yearned  to  devote  herself,  this  she  prayed  God 
to  sanctify !  And  to  such  a  goal  the  priest 
and  his  daughter  were  expected  to  help  her  on- 
ward in  the  quiet  parsonage,  beneath  the  severe 
eyes  of  a  r^enerated  congregation  I 

When  Signe  came  in,  bright  and  fresh  as  the 
winter  morning,  to  greet  her  father,  she  foond 
the  study  filled  with  tobacco-smoke.  This  was 
always  an  indication  that  something  was  amiss, 
and  doubly  so  thus  early  in  the  morning. 
Without  a  word  he  handed  her  the  book.  She 
saw  at  once  that  it  was  Petra's  ;  a  recollection 
of  the  suspicion  and  pain  of  the  preceding  even- 


192  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

ing  flashed  over  her  ;  she  dared  not  look  in  the 
book ;  her  heart  beat  so  violently  that  she  was 
forced  to  sit  down.  But  the  same  word  that 
had  first  attracted  her  father's  attention  now 
caught  her  eye ;  she  had  to  look  again  and  thus 
read  all.  Her  first  feeling  was  one  of  shame — 
not  on  Petra's  account,  but  because  her  father 
had  seen  this. 

But  soon  she  experienced  the  deep  humilia- 
tion that  arises  from  being  disappointed  in  one 
who  has  been  dearly  beloved.  In  such  in- 
stances a  person  who  has  been  capable  of  dis- 
guises is  apt  for  a  moment  to  seem  greater, 
more  ingenious,  more  clever  than  ourselves,  to 
glide  away  from  us  into  the  regions  of  the  mys- 
terious. But  soon  all  the  faculties  of  the  soul 
unite  in  indignation  ;  honesty  gains  power  over 
all  those  forces  which,  although  hidden,  do  not 
savor  of  the  mysterious ;  we  feel  strong  enough 
to  crush  with  one  blow  the  manifold  cunning 
devices ;  we  despise  what  but  now  humiliated 
as. 

In  the  sitting-room  Petra  had  seated  herself 
at  the  piano,  and  now  they  heard  her  singing  : 

"  Joy  now  is  kindled,  risen  the  day, 
Stormed  are  the  Night's  cload  prisons  away , 
Tents  o'er  the  mountain-tops  glowing, 
Hosts  of  the  Light-king  are  throwing. 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  198 

*  Dp  1 '  DOW  crios  the  woodland  bird, 
'  Up! '  from  childhood's  lipe  is  heard. 
Up,  loo,  my  hope  with  Bunrise." 

Then  a  storm  swept  over  the  keys  of  the 
Instrument,  and  out  of  it  burst  the  following 
Bong :  — 

"  Wamiog  voices,  I  thanlc  ye  well. 

But  I  and  my  boat  are  away, 
To  the  Bonnd  of  the  luring  billows'  swell, 

In  the  whirl  of  winds  and  of  spray ! 
I  must  range  the  new  path,  I  must  hont  o'er  the  luain, 
Though  I  gaze  on  the  Fatherland  never  again. 

"  Oh,  not  for  pleasure  and  not  for  gain, 

Drawn  — drawn  from  the  fading  shore  — 
I  would  seek  the  bounds  of  the  trackless  plain. 

The  vast  Unknown  I  'd  explore. 
So  long  as  my  bark  cleaves  the  breakers  in  twain, 
So  long  range  I  the  path  —  so  far  hnnt  o'er  the  main." 

Ah !  this  was  more  than  the  priest  could 
bear  I  Striding  past  Signe,  he  snatched  the 
book  from  her  hand  and  stormed  toward  the 
door,  and  this  time  his  daughter  made  no  ef- 
fort to  hold  him  back.  He  rushed  straight  to 
Petra,  flung  the  book  on  the  piano  in  front  of 
her,  turned,  and  made  the  complete  circuit  of 
the  room.  When  he  came  back  to  her  she  had 
risen,  the  book  -was  clasped  to  her  bosom,  and 
she  was  looking  about  her  on  every  side  with  a 
bewildered  gaze.  He  paused  in  front  of  her, 
intending  to  tell  her  just  what  he  thought  of 
her,  bat  so  violent  was  his  wrath   at  having 


194  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

served  as  a  tool  for  more  than  two  years  for 
this  wily  young  person,  and  still  more  that  his 
warm-hearted,  devoted  daughter  had  been  made 
a  dupe  of,  that  he  could  not  at  once  find  words, 
and  when  he  did  succeed  in  doing  so,  he  felt 
himself  that  they  might  be  too  harsh.  Once 
more  he  took  a  turn  about  the  room,  walked 
right  up  in  front  of  Petra  again,  his  face  fiery 
red,  and  then,  without  a  single  word,  turned 
his  back  on  her  and  strode  away  to  his  study. 
When  he  reached  it,  Signe  was  gone. 

The  whole  of  that  day  was  passed  by  each  in 
retirement.  The  priest  dined  alone  ;  neither  of 
the  girls  made  her  appearance.  Petra  was  in 
the  housekeeper's  room,  which  had  been  as- 
signed to  her  after  the  fire.  She  had  searched 
everywhere  in  vain  for  Signe  to  pour  out  her 
heart  to  her ;  but  Signe  could  not  be  at  home. 

Petra  felt  that  she  was  standing  on  the  verge 
of  a  crisis.  The  most  secret  thoughts  of  her 
Boul  had  been  rudely  torn  from  her,  and  there 
was  an  effort  about  to  be  made  to  exert  over 
her  an  influence  she  could  not  brook.  She 
well  knew  that  if  she  were  to  give  up  her  cher- 
ished purposes,  she  would  drift  idly  onward 
henceforth  before  the  wind  of  chance.  She 
could  be  happy  with  those  that  did  rejoice, 
trustful  with   those  whose   hearts   were  filled 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  196 

with  trust,  secnre  in  everything ;  but  It  was 
through  the  strength  inspired  by  that  secret 
hope  of  hers  that  she  might  one  day  attain  the 
goal  of  her  aspirations  toward  which  all  the 
faculties  of  her  soul  were  growing.  Confide  in 
any  one  after  that  first  pitiful  failure  in  Bergen 
—  no,  she  would  have  found  this  impossible, 
even  had  it  been  Odegaard  himself  !  She  must 
be  alone  with  her  secret  until  it  was  sufiiciently 
developed  to  brave  the  breath  of  doubt. 

But  now  a  change  had  been  wrought.  The 
priest's  flaming  countenance  looked  incessantly 
down  into  her  frightened  conscience  —  she 
must  seek  deliverance.  More  excitedly',  more 
hastily,  than  ever,  she  pursued  her  search  for 
Signe ;  the  afternoon  wore  on  and  still  Signe 
was  not  to  be  found.  The  longer  a  person  we 
are  seeking  remains  absent  from  us,  the  greater 
seems  the  cause  of  the  separation,  and  thus  it 
came  to  pass  that  Petra  finally  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  she  had  been  guilty  of  treach- 
ery in  secretly  availing  herself  of  Signe's  friend- 
ship for  the  furtherance  of  what  Signe  herself 
deemed  sinful.  The  omniscient  God  must  be 
her  witness  that  never  before  had  this  view  of 
the  matter  presented  itself  to  her  mind;  she 
felt  herself  a  great  sinner. 

As  once  before,  in  her  own  home,  she  wad 


V( 


196  THE  FISHER    MAIDEN. 

overwhelmed  by  a  knowledge  of  which  but  .1 
moment  previous  she  had  not  the  famtest  mis- 
giving !  That  anything  so  appalling  actually 
could  repeat  itself,  that  she  had  not  yet  pro- 
gressed one  step,  inci'eased  her  anxiety  to  ter- 
ror. She  saw  before  her  a  future  full  of  mis- 
ery. But  in  the  same  proportion  as  her  own 
sense  of  guilt  increased,  Signe's  image  rose  in 
purity  and  magnanimous  devotion.  Truly,  coals 
of  fire  were  heaped  upon  her  head.  She  longed 
to  fling  herself  at  Signe's  feet ;  she  wanted  to 
entreat  and  implore  her,  and  neither  relax  her 
hold  nor  cease  her  importunities  until  Signs 
had  given  her  just  one  look  of  the  old  friend- 
liness. 

It  had  grown  dark.  Signe  must  be  at  home 
now,  wherever  she  might  have  been.  Petra 
sped  along  the  passage  to  the  wing  of  the  house 
where  Signe's  room  was,  and  found  the  door 
locked, —  a  sure  sign  that  Signe  was  there. 
With  throbbing  heart  Petra  once  more  grasped 
the  door-knob,  and  cried  beseechingly :  — 

"  Signe,  please  let  me  talk  with  you  !  Signe, 
I  cannot  bear  this  any  longer !  " 

Not  a  sound  from  the  room  ;  Petra  bent  over, 
listened,  and  knocked  again. 

"  Signe,  oh,  Signe !  you  do  not  know  ho^ 
unhappy  I  am  !  " 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  197 

No  answer.  Again  Petra  waited  and  list- 
ened, but  still  there  came  none.  When  we 
thus  fail  to  obtain  a  response,  we  are  apt  to 
doubt  at  last  whether  there  is  any  one  at  hand 
to  give  it»  even  when  we  have  reason  to  feel 
Bure  that  there  is,  and  when  darkness  surrounds 
us  we  become  alarmed. 

"  Signe,  Signe  !  If  you  are  there,  be  merci- 
ful —  answer  me  I  Signe  I " 

But  the  silence  remained  unbroken.  Petra 
shuddered  and  shivered.  At  this  moment  the 
kitchen-door  was  opened,  letting  out  a  broad, 
full  stream  of  light,  and  brisk,  buoyant  footstep* 
were  heard  in  the  court-yard.  This  suggested 
a  plan  to  Petra's  mind.  She  would  go  out  into 
the  yard  herself,  and  climbing  on  the  ledge  on 
the  stone  foundation  of  the  wing,  she  would 
walk  round  the  entire  building  in  order  to 
reach  the  other  side,  where  the  elevation  from 
the  ground  was  very  great.  She  wanted  to 
look  into  Signe's  room. 

It  was  a  bright,  starlit  evening.  The  mount- 
ain, as  well  as  the  surrounding  houses,  stood 
out  in  sharp  outlines,  but  the  outlines  alone 
were  visible.  The  snow  lay  glittering  around ; 
the  dark  paths  served  only  to  increase  its  daz- 
zling distinetuess.  From  the  road  came  the 
jingling  of  sleigh-bclls;  the  merry  sound  and 


198  THE   nSHEB  MAIDEN. 

the  sparkling  brightness  of  the  night  had  an 
inspiriting  effect  on  Petra,  and  she  sprang 
lithely  on  the  ledge.  She  strove  to  clmg  to  the 
projecting  wood- work  of  the  windows,  but  lost 
her  balance  and  fell  to  the  ground  again.  Then 
she  seized  an  empty  barrel,  and  rolling  it  up 
against  the  wall  stepped  on  it  and  from  it  to 
the  ledge.  She  now  worked  her  way  along  by 
means  of  hands  and  feet  together,  advancing 
about  a  quarter  of  a  yard  with  each  effort ;  the 
strong  fingers  of  a  strong  hand  were  needed  to 
hold  on  vigorously ;  she  could  not  get  a  firm 
grasp,  for  the  wood-work  scarcely  projected  an 
inch.  She  was  fearful  lest  some  one  should 
see  her,  for  it  would  naturally  be  thought  this 
had  some  connection  with  her  rope-ladder  ex- 
ploits. If  she  could  only  clear  the  side  facing 
the  court-yard,  and  reach  the  gable-wall.  But 
when  finally  she  succeeded  in  doing  so,  fresh 
danger  awaited  her ;  for  there  were  no  blinds 
to  the  windows,  and  she  was  compelled  to 
stoop  as  she  passed  each  window,  in  constant 
terror  of  falling.  On  the  main  wall  of  the 
wing  the  foundation  was  very  high  and  beneath 
ran  a  gooseberry  hedge,  which  would  certainly 
receive  her  should  she  fall.  But  she  had  no 
fear.  Her  fingers  smarted,  her  muscles  qavi 
ered,  a  tremor  ran  through  her  whole  frame 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  199 

bat  she  went  on.  Only  a  few  steps  more  and 
the  window  was  reached.  There  was  no  light 
in  Signe's  room,  and  the  curtain  had  not  yet 
been  drawn  down ;  the  moon  shone  full  in  the 
room,  so  that  the  innermost  corner  was  plainly 
visible.  This  gave  Petra  fresh  courage.  She 
reached  the  window-sill ;  she  could  at  last  take 
hold  with  her  whole  hand  and  rest,  for  now 
that  the  goal  was  reached,  her  heart  began  to 
throb  so  violently  that  she  could  scarcely 
breathe.  As  this  only  grew  worse  the  longer 
she  waited,  she  felt  that  she  must  make  haste, 
and  suddenly  she  leaned  her  whole  person 
against  the  window.  A  wild  cry  broke  from 
the  room.  Signe  had  been  sitting  bn  one  cor- 
ner of  the  sofa,  and  now  with  a  bound  she 
stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  warding  off 
the  dreadful  apparition,  wildly  and  with  gest- 
ures of  horror,  then  turned  and  fled.  This 
figure  on  the  window-panes  in  the  bright  moon- 
light, this  reckless,  offensive  daring,  this  face 
outlined  by  the  moon,  all  aglow  with  excite- 
ment I  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  Petra  real- 
ized that  her  unlucky  fancy  in  itself  was 
enough  to  fill  any  one  with  terror,  and  that 
her  image  would  no  doubt  henceforth  be  a  con- 
tinual source  of  terror  to  Signe ;  consciousness 
forsook  her,  and  with  a  piercing  shriek  she  fell 
^  the  ground. 


200  THE  FISHER  MATOEN. 

Every  person  in  the  house  had  rushed  out 
at  Signe's  cry,  but  had  failed  to  find  any  one. 
This'  second  cry  set  the  whole  gard  astir,  but 
all  searching  and  shouting  was  in  vain,  until 
the  priest  chanced  to  look  through  the  window 
in  Signe's  chamber  and  espied  Petra  lying 
among  the  bushes.  A  great  fear  fell  upon 
every  one  around,  and  it  cost  some  exertion  to 
get  her  free  from  the  brambles.  She  was  carried 
into  Signe's  chamber,  as  there  was  no  fire  in 
the  housekeeper's  room,  was  undressed  and  put 
to  bed,  where  her  hands  and  neck,  which  were 
pretty  badly  torn,  were  bathed  by  some,  while 
others  made  the  room  comfortable,  bright,  and 
warm. 

The  calm  coziness  of  the  room,  the  snowy 
white  drapery  of  the  windows,  toilet-table,  bed, 
and  chairs,  all  made  her  think  of  Signe.  She 
called  to  mind  her  pure,  loving  nature,  her  gen- 
tle voice,  whose  accents  betokened  the  utmost 
guilelessness,  her  delicate  comprehension  of  the 
thoughts  of  others,  her  tender  benevolence. 
From  all  this  she  had  now  shut  herself  out ; 
soon  she  would  be  banished  from  this  room,  in 
all  probability  obliged  to  leave  the  gard.  And 
whither  should  she  then  go?  People  are  not 
likely  to  be  taken  in  a  third  time  from  the 
\jighway,  and  even  if  this  were  possible  she  no 


THE   nSHEB  MAIDEN.  201 

longer  desired  it,  for  it  would  only  end  in  the 
same  way.  Not  a  living  soul  could  have  confi- 
dence in  her  again  ;  whatever  might  be  the 
cause  of  this,  she  felt  that  it  was  so.  She  had 
not  gained  one  step,  she  felt  that  she  would 
never  advance  any,  for  without  the  confidence 
of  our  fellow-creatures  progi'ess  is  an  impossi- 
bility. How  she  prayed,  how  she  wept  I  She 
tossed  and  writhed  in  her  anguish  of  spirit  un- 
til she  became  exhausted  and  fell  asleep. 

Soon  in  her  sleep  eveiything  became  snowy 
white,  gradually,  moreover,  lofty  as  well  ;  in 
her  whole  life  she  had  never  seen  such  lofty 
heights  and  such  a  dazzling  glitter  of  milliona 
of  stars. 


CHAPTER  X. 

When  she  awoke  she  wiia  still  in  those 
higher  regions  ;  daylight's  thoughts,  which  soon 
filled  her  mind,  made  an  effort  to  soar  up  there, 
too,  but  they  were  taken  captive  and  borne  by 
something  that  filled  the  whole  atmosphere,  — 
it  was  the  ringing  of  the  bells  on  Sunday  morn- 
ing. She  sprang  out  of  bed  and  dressed  her- 
self ;  then  she  found  a  little  to  eat  in  the  pan- 
try, put  on  some  warm  wraps,  and  hastened 
away,  —  she  had  never  before  so  thirsted  for 
the  word  of  God!  When  she  came  to  the 
church,  the  service  had  just  begun,  and  the 
door  was  closed ;  it  was  a  cold  day,  and  her 
fingers  smarted  when  she  took  hold  of  the  door 
knob  to  turn  it.  The  priest  was  just  standing 
before  the  altar,  and  so  she  waited  near  the  door 
until  he  was  through  saying  mass.  While  the 
deacon  was  removing  the  chasuble  she  went  to 
the  so-called  bishop's  pew,  which  stood  in  the 
chancel  with  curtains  around  it.  The  priest's 
family  had  a  pew  in  the  gallery ;  but  when  a 
person,  for  some  reason  or  other,  desired  to  sit 


THE  FISHER   MAIDEN.  203 

ftlone  and  hide  from  the  sight  of  the  others,  it 
was  customary  to  resort  to  the  bishop's  pew. 
When  she  reached  it  and  stole  in,  she  discovered 
Signe  sitting  there  akeady  in  the  inmost  comer. 
She  took  one  step  to  go  out  again,  but  just  then 
the  priest  turned  to  leave  the  altar  and  pass  her 
as  he  went  to  the  vestry ;  she  hastened  into  the 
pew  again  and  sat  down  as  far  as  possible  from 
Signe,  who  had  dropped  her  veil.  This  hurt 
Petra  s  feelings.  She  let  her  eyes  wander  over 
the  congregation  that  filled  the  high  wooden 
pews,  the  men  on  the  right  and  the  women  on 
the  left  side.  Their  breaths  tilled  the  air  above 
their  heads  like  a  floating  mist;  on  the  win- 
dows the  frost  was  an  inch  thick,  the  clumsy 
wooden  images,  the  dragging,  heavy  singing, 
the  people  wrapped  in  their  winter  clothes  — 
all  corresponded ;  everything  seemed  hard  and 
far  away  —  she  was  reminded  of  the  impression 
she  got  on  that  memorable  afternoon  when  she 
left  Bergen ;  here,  too,  she  was  merely  a  timid 
traveler. 

The  priest  appeared  in  the  pulpit.  He,  also 
had  a  severe  look.  His  prayer  was :  "  Lead  us 
not  into  temptation ! "  We  are  conscious,  he 
»aid,  that  the  faculties  which  God  has  given  all 
Dave  in  them  an  element  which  tempts  us  to  do 
wrong;   but  he  besought  God  to  be  merciful 


204  THE  FISH£R  MAIDEN. 

and  not  to  try  us  beyond  our  strength.  For 
this  we  mast  ever  remember  to  pray  ;  for  only 
^hen  brought  in  subordination  to  Him  would 
our  talents  and  faculties  work  out  our  salva- 
tion. 

In  the  sermon  the  priest  further  developed 
the  same  theme,  discussing  our  double  duty, 
that  of  performing  our  life-work,  each  in  the 
position  where  his  talents  and  circumstances 
have  placed  him,  and  that  of  bringing  forth 
a  truly  Christian  character  in  ourselves  and  in 
those  intrusted  to  our  care.  We  must  be  care- 
ful in  the  choice  of  our  vocation,  for  there  are 
vocations  that  are  sinful  in  themselves,  while 
there  are  other  callings  which  may  prove  a 
source  of  sin  to  us,  either  because  they  are  not 
suited  to  our  capabilities,  or  because  they  suit 
too  well  our  evil  desires.  Again  :  Certain  as  it 
is,  that  we  must  try  to  choose  our  work  in  ao- 
cordance  with  our  faculties,  it  is  equally  certain 
that  a  choice  which  seems  both  correct  and 
good,  may  prove  a  source  of  temptation  to  us, 
if  we,  from  love  of  it,  permit  it  to  consume  all 
our  time  and  occupy  all  our  thoughts.  Our 
duties  as  Christians  must  not  be  neglected  any 
more  than  our  obligations  to  our  children. 
We  must  be  able  to  concentrate  our  thoughts 
upon  ourselves  in  order  that  the  spirit  of  God 


THE  FISHER   MAU)EN.  205 

may  be  permitted  to  do  its  work  in  our  hearts ; 
we  must  be  able  to  plant  and  cherish  the  good 
seed  of  Christianity  in  the  hearts  of  our  chil- 
dren. There  is  no  duty,  no  pretext,  that  can 
excuse  us  here,  though  the  performance  may  be 
modified  by  circumstances. 

Thereupon  the  priest  went  further,  and  en- 
tered into  the  vocation  of  tliose  who  sat  before 
him  ;  he  entered  into  their  homes,  their  circum- 
stances, and  their  opinions.  Finally  he  pro- 
duced a  number  of  examples,  by  way  of  illus- 
tration, from  other  and  higher  walks  in  life, 
thus  throwing  side-lights  on  the  topic  discussed. 
The  moment  the  priest  became  animated  in 
his  sermon,  he  seemed  a  new  man  'to  him  who 
knew  him  only  in  every-day  life.  Even  his  ex- 
ternal appearance  was  changed  :  his  compact, 
strong  face  had  become  transparent,  as  it  were, 
revealing  the  thoughts  that  throbbed  within. 
His  eyes  grew  larger,  and  in  their  firm  and 
steadfast  gaze  was  a  message  to  every  person 
in  the  congregation.  His  head,  with  its  haiiy 
mane,  was  magnified  and  made  him  look  like  a 
Hon  whose  voice  rolled  out  in  long  thunder  tones, 
or  came  forth  in  short,  violent  phrases,  sinking 
at  times  into  a  whisper,  but  only  to  rise  again 
to  gieater  heights.  He  could  not  in  fact  speak 
except  before  a  large  audience  and  under  the  in- 


206  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

Bpiratioii  of  thoughts  of  eternity  ;  for  there  waa 
no  eloquence  in  his  voice,  before  it  reached  a 
Bcreaming  pitch ;  there  was  no  expression  in 
his  countenance  and  no  striking  perspicuity  in 
his  thought,  before  it  was  all  ablaze  with  zeal. 
Not  that  he  had  failed  till  now  to  find  the 
theme  to  kindle  it;  no,  if  affliction  had  gath- 
ered rich  treasures  into  his  soul,  reflection  had 
done  no  less.  He  was  a  hard  worker,  and  de- 
voted himself  largely  to  retirement  and  reflec- 
tion. But  he  was  not  always  in  the  mood  for 
the  ordinary  affairs  of  life ;  his  thoughts  lacked 
the  power  of  expression  in  conversation ;  he 
must  be  allowed  to  do  all  the  talking,  or,  at 
least,  he  must  be  vigorously  pacing  the  floor, 
while  the  conversation  was  in  progress.  To 
begin  a  debate  with  him  was  almost  like  at- 
tacking a  defenseless  man,  but  still  it  was  dan- 
gerous ;  for  his  conviction  soon  made  resistance 
with  so  much  violence  that  there  was  no  time 
for  arguments.  Were  he,  however,  compelled 
to  give  reasons,  he  would  do  one  of  two  things : 
he  would  either  pour  such  a  stream  of  words 
upon  his  opponent  that  the  discussion  was  apt 
to  end  unpleasantly,  or  he  would  stop  short,  as 
if  in  fear  of  himself.  No  one  could  more  easily 
be  silenced  than  this  strong,  eloquent  man. 
When  the  priest  began  the  prayer,  Petra 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  207 

trembled,  for  she  understood  whence  the  text 
was  taken.  The  farther  he  progressed  the 
nearer  she  felt  he  came  to  herself.  She  shrank 
back,  and  observed  that  Signe  did  the  same. 
But  the  vigorous  man  cut  his  way  without 
mercy ;  the  lion  was  out  seeking  for  prey,  — 
Petra  felt  herself  pursued  on  every  side, 
hemmed  in,  and  captured ;  but  what  was  seized 
so  harshly,  was  held  gently  in  the  hand  of 
mercy.  Without  a  word  of  condemnation  she 
seemed  to  be  laid  captive  in  the  arms  of  Him 
who  is  infinite  love.  And  there  she  prayed, 
and  wept,  and  she  heard  Signe  do  the  same, 
and  she  loved  her  for  it ! 

When  the  priest  descended  from  the  pulpit 
and  passed  Petra  and  Signe  on  his  way  to  the 
vestry,  his  countenance  still  beamed  from  his 
communion  with  the  Lord.  His  searching 
glance  fell  on  Petra,  but  as  she  turned  her  open 
face  toward  him,  a  ray  of  gentleness  met  her. 
He  looked  hastily  in  the  comer  at  his  daughter, 
as  he  proceeded. 

Shortly  after  Signe  rose :  her  face  was  veiled, 
and  so  Petra  did  not  dare  go  with  her.  She 
therefore  lingered  behind  until  later.  Noon 
tound  all  three  together  at  the  same  table  ;  the 
priest  talked  a  little,  but  Signe  waa  shy.  As 
soon   as  the  priest,  who   evidently  desired   to 


208  THE  FISHEB   MAIDEN. 

talk  about  what  bad  happened,  made  the  faint' 
est  allusion  to  it,  Signe  turned  the  conyersation 
in  so  modest  and  delicate  a  manner,  that  the 
priest  was  reminded  of  her  mother ;  he  grew 
silent  and  gradually  became  sad.  It  took  but 
little  to  make  him  so. 

Nothing  is  more  painful  than  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  at  reconciliation.  The  family  rose 
without  being  able  to  look  at  one  another,  much 
less  to  exchange  the  usual  thanks  for  the  re- 
past. In  the  sitting-room  the  silence  at  length 
grew  so  oppressive  that  all  three  would  fain 
have  gone  away,  but  no  one  wanted  to  be  first 
to  go.  As  for  Petra,  she  felt  that  if  she  went, 
it  would  be  never  to  return.  She  could  not 
meet  Signe  again,  if  she  could  not  be  permitted 
to  love  her ;  she  could  not  endure  to  see  the 
priest  sad  for  her  sake.  But  if  she  must  leave, 
she  must  go  without  saying  farewell,  for  how 
could  she  take  leave  of  these  people  I  Only 
the  thought  of  it  produced  an  emotion  which 
she  could  scarcely  control.  ^ 

Every  minute  which  prolongs  a  situation  so 
oppressive,  when  each  waits  for  the  other  to 
speak,  makes  it  more  insufferable.  No  one 
dares  to  stir  from  fear  of  attracting  attention ; 
every  sigh  is  heard,  the  stillness  itself  is  audi- 
ble, for  it  seems  like  harshness.     Suspense  is 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN,  209 

felt,  because  no  word  is  spoken,  and  there  is  a 
dread  lest  somebody  may  say  something. 

Each  one  realized  that  this  moment  would 
never  return.  The  walls  that  are  built  be- 
tween heart  and  heart  grow ;  our  own  guilt  in- 
creases, as  does  that  of  the  others,  with  every 
breath  we  draw.  We  are  by  turns  despondent 
and  indignant  ;  for  the  person  treating  us  thus 
is  without  compassion,  is  hard;  we  will  not 
bear  it,  we  cannot  forgive  him.  Petra  could 
endure  it  no  longer,  she  must  either  cry  aloud 
or  take  flight ! 

Then  sleigh-bells  were  heard  in  the  road. 
Soon  a  man  clad  in  a  wolf-skin  coat  and  seated 
in  a  sledge,  with  a  driver  behind  "on  the  box, 
was  seen  dashing  past  the  garden  and  turning 
into  the  court-yard.  All  three  now  breathed 
more  freely  and  waited  for  the  relief  which  waa 
coming  I  They  heard  the  stranger  in  the  hall ; 
he  was  removing  his  traveling  boots  and  coat 
and  talking  with  the  servant-girl  who  assisted 
him.  The  priest  rose  to  meet  the  stranger, 
but  turned  again  so  as  not  to  leave  the  two 
girls  alone.  Again  the  stranger's  voice  was 
heard  in  the  hall,  and  now  nearer,  so  that  it 
made  all  three  look  up.  But  Petra  rose  and 
fixed  her  eyes  on  the  door. 

A  knock  was  heard. 
14 


210  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

"  Come  in  I  "  said  the  priest,  much  agitated 
A  man  with  a  light  complexion  and  spectacles 
stood  in  the  door.  Petra  uttered  a  shriek  and 
fell  back  in  her  chair.     It  was  Odegaard. 

To  the  priest  and  Signe  he  did  not  come  un- 
expected. He  was  to  spend  Christmas  at  the 
parsonage  ;  but  no  one  had  said  a  word  to  Pe- 
tra of  this.  That  he  came  just  at  this  moment, 
however,  was  a  direct  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence, and  this  they  all  felt. 

When  Petra  recovered  her  consciousness  Ode- 
gaard was  standing  before  her  and  holding  her 
hand.  He  continued  to  hold  it,  but  said  noth- 
ing ;  nor  did  she  speak,  she  could  not  even  rise. 
But  a  couple  of  tears  rolled  down  her  cheek, 
while  she  continued  to  fix  her  eyes  on  him. 
He  was  very  pale,  but  his  manner  was  perfectly 
calm  and  kind.  He  withdrew  his  hand,  crossed 
the  floor,  and  then  went  to  Signe,  who  had 
jtolen  into  the  farthest  window,  behind  her 
mother's  flowers. 

Petra  longed  to  be  alone,  and  so  she  left  the 
room.  Signe  found  plenty  of  household  duties 
to  keep  her  busy.  The  priest  and  Odegaard, 
therefore,  seated  themselves  in  the  study  to 
drink  a  glass  of  wine,  of  which  the  traveler 
stood  in  need.  Odegaard  was  here  briefly  told 
of  what  the  last  days  had  brought  forth.    It 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  211 

made  him  thoughtful,  but  he  said  nothing. 
Their  conversation  yraa  interrupted  in  a  singu- 
lar manner. 

Past  the  windows  went  two  women  and 
three  men,  one  after  the  other,  and  the  priest 
no  sooner  caught  sight  of  them  than  he  sprang 
to  his  feet  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  There  we  have  them  again  1  Now  we  must 
arm  ourselves  with  patience  I " 

Slowly  and  silently  the  women  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  the  men.  They  placed  themselves  in 
a  line  along  the  wall  beneath  the  book-shelves 
and  opposite  the  sofa  where  Odegaard  was  sit- 
ting. The  priest  placed  chairs  before  them, 
brought  out  others  from  the  next  room,  and 
they  all  sat  down,  with  the  exception  of  a 
young  city-dressed  man,  who  refused  and  re- 
mained standing  near  the  door.  He  had  a  de- 
fiant air,  and  kept  both  hands  in  his  pockets. 

After  a  long  pause,  during  which  the  priest 
filled  his  pipe,  and  Odegaard,  who  never 
smoked,  carefully  obsei-ved  the  visitors,  a  fair- 
complexioned,  pale  woman  of  about  forty  win- 
ters began  the  conversaticm.  Her  forehead 
was  rather  narrow,  her  eyes  large,  but  restless ; 
they  did  not  seem  to  know  which  way  to  look. 
Finally  she  said.  — 


212  THE   FISHER  IIAIDEN. 

"  That  was  a  fine  sermon  you  preached  to- 
day, father.  It  suited  well  what  has  been  in 
our  minds  of  late  ;  for  we  at  the  Oygards  have 
of  late  often  had  occasion  to  speak  of  tempta- 
tion." 

And  she  sighed. 

A  man  with  a  short,  thick,  double  chin  and 
a  large  broad  face,  also  sighed,  saying,  — 

"  Lord,  teach  us  Thy  ways !  Turn  away 
mine  eyes  from  beholding  vanity  I  " 

And  Else,  the  woman  who  had  first  spoken, 
again  sighed,  as  she  said,  — 

"  Lord,  wherewithal  shall  the  young  cleanse 
their  ways  so  that  they  may  heed  Thy  word  ?  " 

The  words  sounded  strange  in  her  mouth,  for 
she  was  no  longer  young.  But  a  middle-aged 
man,  who  sat  swaying  back  and  forth  with  his 
head  on  one  side,  while  his  eyes  were  never 
really  open,  drawled  out  as  if  half  asleep,  the 
following  lines  :  — 

"  None  are  safe  from  Satan's  goile, 
Sore  temptation,  many  a  wile, 
Must  the  Christian's  valor  try, 
Minded  with  his  Lord  to  die." 

The  priest  knew  these  people  too  well  not  to 
understand  that  this  was  merely  the  introduc- 
tion, so  he  waited  as  if  nothing  had  been  said, 
although  there  was  again  a  long  pause,  broken 
©nly  by  repeated  sighs. 


THE  FISHEB   MAIDEN.  218 

A  little  woman,  who  seemed  still  smaller  be- 
eause  she  stooped,  and  who  was  wrapped  up  in 
such  a  lot  of  shawls  that  she  looked  like  a 
bundle  of  merchandise,  —  her  face  was,  indeed, 
quite  invisible,  —  now  began  to  move  about 
uneasily  in  her  chair,  and  at  length  gave  two 
faint  coughs. 

This  at  once  aroused  Else,  who  said,  — 

"  There  is  no  more  playing  or  dancing  at  the 
Oygards  now ;  but  "  —  she  paused  again,  while 
Lars,  the  man  with  the  broad  face  and  short 
double  chin,  interposed, — 

"  But  there  is  one  man,  and  that  is  Hans, 
the  fiddler,  who  will  not  give  it  up.** 

As  Lars,  too,  seemed  to  hesitate  as  to  whether 
he  should  say  the  rest  or  not,  the  young  man 
spoke  :  — 

"  For  he  knows  that  the  priest,  too,  has  an 
instrument,  to  which  they  both  dance  and  sing 
here  at  the  parsonage." 

"  It  can't  be  a  greater  sin  for  him  than  it  is 
for  the  priest,"  said  Lars. 

"  The  fact  is  the  priest's  instrument  serves  as 
a  temptation,"  said  Else,  cautiously,  by  way  of 
helping  on  the  conversation  to  the  point  iu 
view. 

But  the  young  man  added,  with  more  em- 
phasis, — 


214  THE  FISHER  MAffiEN. 

"  It  is  a  stumbling-block  to  the  young.  As 
it  is  written,  '  Whosoeyer  shall  offend  one  of 
these  little  ones  that  belieye  in  me,  it  is  better 
for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  he  were  cast  into  the  sea.'  " 

Here  Lars  came  to  his  relief. 

"  And  so  we  come  to  request  you  to  send 
away  that  instrument  of  yours,  or  bum  it,  so 
that  it  may  no  longer  be  a  stumbling-block  "  — 

"To  the  young  of  your  parish,"  added  the 
young  man. 

The  priest  kept  smoking  his  pipe  most  vig- 
orously, and  finally,  making  a  visible  effort  to 
compose  himself,  he  said :  — 

"  To  me  there  is  no  temptation  in  this  instru- 
ment ;  on  the  contrary,  it  affords  me  recreation 
and  relief.  Now  you  know  that  whatever  is 
able  to  divert  our  minds  makes  it  easier  for  us 
to  receive  and  understand  good  things  ;  conse- 
quently I  firmly  believe  that  such  things  as  this 
instrument  are  a  help  to  me." 

"  And  I  know  there  are  priests  who,  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  words  of  Paul,  would  rather 
make  a  sacrifice  of  such  pleasures  than  offend 
the  children  of  the  parish,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  It  may  be  that  I,  too,  formerly  interpreted 
his  words  in  that  way,"  answered  the  priest 
*  but  I  do  not  do  so  now.     A  person  may  give 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  215 

np  a  habit  or  a  comfort ;  but  he  should  avoid 
being  narrow-minded  and  stupid  for  the  sake  of 
gratifying  narrow-minded  and  stupid  people. 
I  would  be  wronging  not  only  myself,  but  also 
those  to  whom  I  am  to  be  an  example,  and  I 
would  be  setting  a  bad  example,  an  example 
contrary  to  my  conviction." 

It  was  not  often  that  the  priest  could  make 
80  full  an  explanation  when  he  was  out  of  the 
pulpit.     He  added,  — 

"I  will  not  give  up  my  piano,  I  will  not 
bum  it,  —  I  will  listen  to  it  frequently,  for  I 
often  feel  the  need  of  it,  and  I  cannot  but  wish 
that  you,  too,  might  occasionally,  in  an  innocent 
manner,  divert  your  minds  with  singing,  play- 
ing, and  dancing,  for  I  regard  these  things  as 
good  and  proper." 

"  Fy  I  "  said  the  young  man,  tossing  his  head 
and  spitting  on  the  floor. 

The  priest's  face  turned  red  as  blood,  and 
perfect  silence  ensued.  The  man  who  sat  sway- 
ing back  and  forth,  struck  up  at  the  top  of  his 
voice  the  following  hymn :  — 

"  My  God,  on  ev'ry  side  I  sm 
Anguish,  and  pain,  and  care  : 
For  men,  whatever  their  state  may  b«, 
Bend  'neath  the  cross  they  bear ; 
And  feeble  flesh  and  blood  reb«l, 
^  every  mortal  knoweth  welL" 


216  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

And  then  Lars  remarked,  in  a  low  tone,  — 

"  You  say,  then,  that  playing  and  singing 
and  dancing  are  proper,  do  you?  It  is  right 
to  stir  up  Satan  for  sensual  gratification,  is 
it  ?  That  is  what  our  priest  says.  Well,  it  is 
a  good  thing  we  have  found  it  out !  —  Ah,  he 
really  says,  that  everything  connected  with  idle- 
ness and  sensuality  tends  to  relieve  and  aid  the 
mind;  that  what  leads  us  into  temptation  is 
right  and  proper !  " 

But  now  Odegaard  made  haste  to  interpose, 
for  he  saw  by  the  priest's  countenance  that 
matters  were  coming  to  a  bad  pass. 

"  But  tell  me,  my  good  friend,  what  is  there 
which  does  not  lead  us  into  temptation  ?  "  he 
asked. 

All  looked  at  him  from  whom  these  well- 
considered  words  came.  The  question  was  in 
itself  so  unexpected  that  neither  Lars  nor  the 
others  could  make  an  immediate  answer.  Then 
a  voice  came  as  from  a  deep  well  or  out  of  the 
cellar,  — 

"  Work  does  not." 

The  words  came  from  the  bundle  of  shawls 
it  was  Randi,  who,  for  the  first  time,  opened 
her  lips.     A  triumphant  smile  lighted  up  Lars 
broad    face;    the   light- com plexioned   woman 
looked  with  a  believer's  eyes  at  the  speaker 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  217 

and  even  the  young  man,  who  stood  near  the 
door,  lost  for  a  moment  the  sneering  expression 
of  his  lips.  Odegaard  understood  that  Randi 
was  the  chief  person,  though  her  head  was  not 
visible.  He  therefore  addressed  himself  to 
her. 

"  Of  what  kind  must  work  be,  if  it  is  not  to 
lead  us  into  temptation  ?  " 

She  was  unwilling  to  make  a  reply  to  this 
question,  but  the  young  man  answered  for  her. 

"  The  curse  reads :  '  In  the  sweat  of  thy 
brow  shalt  thou  eat  bread  I '  It  is,  then,  such 
work  as  gives  us  toil  and  trouble." 

"  And  nothing  but  toil  and  trouble  ?  May 
not  work  bring  profit  ?  " 

Now  he,  too,  was  at  a  loss  what  to  answer ; 
but  the  man  with  the  broad  face  and  double 
chin  felt  moved  to  come  to  his  relief. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  we  may  make  all  we  can." 

"  Well,  then  work,  too,  may  lead  us  into 
temptation ;  we  may  be  tempted  to  make  too 
much." 

In  this  dilemma  relief  came  from  the  sepnl- 
chre  of  shawls. 

"Then  it  is  the  profit  and  not  the  work 
that  leads  us  into  temptation." 

**  Certainly  ;  but  what  do  you  say  if  the  work 
is  carried  to  excess  for  the  sake  of  the  profit  ?  " 


218  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

The  bundle  of  shawls  lapsed  into  silence 
again,  but  Lars  took  the  floor. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  carrying  work  to 
excess  ?  " 

"  I  mean  when  it  makes  you  a  brute,  when  it 
makes  a  slave  of  you." 

"  There  should  be  slavery,"  said  the  young 
man,  who  had  been  quoting  the  curse. 

"  But  can  work  when  looked  upon  as  slavery 
lead  us  to  heaven  ?  " 

"  To  work  is  to  serve  God,"  cried  Lars. 

"  Are  you  able  to  say  that  of  all  your  work  ?  * 

Lars  was  silent. 

"  No ;  be  reasonable,  and  admit  that  work 
can  be  carried  to  excess  for  the  sake  of  profit, 
as  if  it  were  the  one  object  of  our  life.  Conse- 
quently, labor,  too,  has  its  temptations." 

"  Yes,  my  children,  there  is  temptation  in 
everything ;  nothing  is  free  from  it ; "  the 
priest  now  decided,  as  he  rose  and  emptied  his 
pipe  as  if  to  close  the  interview.  A  sigh  was 
heard  from  the  bundle  of  shawls,  but  no  reply 
was  made. 

"  Listen  I "  Odegaard  began  again,  and  the 
priest  fiUed  his  pipe  once  more,  —  "if  our  la- 
bor becomes  profitable,  that  is  to  say,  if  it 
bears  fruit,  I  suppose  we  are  permitted  to  enjoy 
this  fruit,  are  we  not  ?  If  it  gives  us  wealth,  is 
it  not  proper  for  us  to  enjoy  this  wealth  ?  " 


THE   nSHER  MAIDEN.  219 

His  questions  awakened  grave  ioubts,  and 
Che  visitors  looked  at  one  another. 

"  While  you  are  reflecting  I  will  answer," 
said  Odegaard.  "  God  must  have  given  us  per- 
mission to  try  to  turn  his  curse  into  a  bless 
ing,  for  He  himself  guided  his  patriarchs ;  He 
led  all  his  chosen  people  to  the  enjoyment  of 
wealth." 

"  The  Apostles  were  forbidden  to  possess 
wealth,"  the  young  man  interposed,  in  a  tone 
of  certain  victory. 

"  Yes,  that  is  true  ;  for  God  wanted  to  place 
them  above  and  beyond  all  human  circumstances, 
that  He  might  be  to  them  all  in  all,  —  they 
were  called  by  the  Lord." 

"We  are  all  called." 

"  But  not  in  the  same  sense ;  are  you  called 
to  be  an  apostle  ?  " 

The  young  man's  face  turned  pale  as  a 
corpse ;  his  eyes  grew  dark  under  his  heavy 
forehead ;  he  must  have  had  some  special  rea- 
son for  taking  the  remark  so  much  to  heart. 

"  But  the  rich  man  must  work,  too,"  remarked 
Lars;  "for  work  is  commanded." 

"  Certainly,  he  must,  although  in  other  ways 
and  for  different  purposes.  Each  one  of  us  has 
his  own  peculiar  task  to  perform.  But  tell  me, 
must  we  work  all  the  time  ?  " 


220  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

"  We  must  also  pray  !  "  chimed  in  the  fair- 
complexioned  woman,  folding  her  hands,  as  if 
recollecting  that  she  long  had  neglected  to 
pray. 

"  Ah,  I  see ;  we  must  pray  whenever  we  do 
not  work ;  is  that  it  ?  Can  any  man  do  that  ? 
Must  we  not  also  rest." 

"  We  ought  not  to  rest  before  we  are  tired  ; 
then  no  wicked  thoughts  would  tempt  us ;  ah, 
no,  then  we  would  not  be  led  into  temptation," 
sighed  Else  again,  and  the  psalm-singer  once 
more  fell  in  with  a  verse  from  the  hyum-book: 

"  Go,  then,  tired  heart  and  frame, 
Seek  rest  in  Jesus'  name  1 
For  ye,  too,  shall  troable  ceaM, 
For  ye,  too,  shall  come  a  peace,  — 
A  little  bed  within  the  soil, 
Free  from  any  care  or  tofl." 

"  Please  be  stiU,  Erik  I "  said  the  priest, 
«*  and  pay  attention  to  what  this  man  is  say- 
ing." 

And  now  Odegaard  began  to  sum  up  the 
conclusions :  — 

"  You  see :  Work  brings  forth  its  fruit  and 
requires  rest.  But  my  opinion  about  social 
intercourse,  singing,  playing,  and  the  like  is, 
that  they,  on  the  one  hand,  are  the  sweet  fruits 
of  labor,  and  that  they,  on  the  other  hand,  fur 
nifh  the  mind  refreshing  rest." 


THE  FISHEB   MAIDEN.  221 

There  was  now  great  commotion  in  the 
camp ;  all  eyes  were  fixed  on  Randi,  for  now 
the  main  body  of  the  army  must  take  the  field  ; 
she  swayed  to  and  fro  in  her  seat  for  a  while, 
and  then  she  began  slowly  and  quietly,  — 

"  There  is  no  rest  to  be  found  in  worldly 
singing  and  in  playing  and  dancing ;  for  such 
things  excite  the  flesh  to  sinful  lusts.  Nor  can 
that  be  a  fruit  of  labor  which  destroys  our  work 
and  makes  us  weak." 

"  Ah,  these  things  are  full  of  temptation," 
said  the  fair-complexioned  woman,  with  a  sigh. 

This  sentiment  was  reechoed  by  Erik  in  a 
verse  from  the  hymn-book :  — 

"  Each  day,  we  see,  worse  than  before, 
How  sin  is  growing  more  and  more. 
Lies  the  garb  of  truth  are  wearing, 
Tice  the  form  of  good  is  bearing; 
Entering  on  our  spirits,  slyly, 
There  to  rear  their  foreheads  hij^y." 

"  Be  silent,  Erik  I  "  said  the  priest ;  "  you 
only  confuse  us." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  that  is  very  likely,"  answered 
Erik,  b^inning  anew  :  — 

"  If  specioas  flatterers  seek  to  wla 
Do  not  thoa  be  led  astray; 
Dread  the  open  path  of  sin, 
Keep  thou  in  the  narrow  way." 

**  Will  you  not  hold  your  tongue,  Erik  I  the 


222  THE   FISHER   MAIDEN. 

hymn  is  good  enough ;  but  there  is  time  and 
place  for  everything." 

"  Yes,  yes,  pastor,  that  is  so,  —  time  and  plaoe 
for  everything,  and  so — 

"  In  every  pUce,  at  every  time, 

May  thy  soul  be  praises  singing ; 
Therein  every  heart  shall  chime 
Like  the  bells  for  worship  ringing." 

"No, no,  Erik;  then  the  prayer  would  also  be- 
come a  source  of  temptation ;  you  would  have  to 
turn  Roman  Catholic  and  enter  a  monastery." 

"  The  Lord  forbid  I "  exclaimed  Erik,  open- 
ing his  eyes  wide,  then  shutting  them  again 
and  beginning,  — 

"  As  fonlest  mire  to  purest  gold 
Is  faith,  to  Popish  error  sold  1  " 

"  Hear  me  now,  Erik ;  if  you  cannot  be  si- 
lent, I  beg  you  to  leave  the  room.  Where  did 
we  leave  the  discussion  ?  " 

But  Odegaard  had  been  listening  to  Erik 
with  great  amusement,  and  did  not  remember 
where  the  conversation  had  been  interrupted. 
Then  a  peaceful  voice  was  heard  from  beneath 
the  bundle  of  shawls. 

"  I  remarked  that  there  can  be  no  rest  or 
fruit  of  labor  in  that^  which  '  — 

"Now  I  remember:  in  thM  which  leads  us 
into  temptation,  —  and  then   Erik  came  and 


THE  nsa£B  MAIDEN.  228 

demonstrated  to  us  that  prayer  can  also  be  a 
source  of  temptation.  Now  let  us  look  and  see 
what  these  things  may  lead  to.  Have  you 
observed  that  happy  people  work  better  than 
those  who  are  sad  ?     Why  ?  " 

Lars  perceived  whither  this  was  aiming,  and 
so  he  said,  — 

"  It  is  faith  that  makes  us  happy/' 

"  Yes,  if  our  religion  is  a  cheerful  one ;  but 
have  you  not  observed  that  one's  religion  may 
be  so  gloomy  that  it  turns  the  whole  world  into 
a  penitentiary  ?  " 

The  fair-<^mplexioned  woman  kept  sighing 
so  incessantly  that  the  bundle  of  shawls  could 
not  refrain  from  stirring  again ;  but  Lars  gave 
her  such  a  sharp  look  that  she  was  silenced. 
Odegaard  continued,  — 

"  The  same  occupation  constantly,  whether 
it  be  work,  prayer,  or  amusement,  would  make 
us  stupid  and  gloomy.  You  can  dig  in  the  dirt 
until  you  become  a  brute ;  pray  until  the  habit 
makes  you  a  monk ;  and  play  until  you  become 
a  mere  puppet.  But  combine  the  three  !  The 
change  will  strengthen  the  heart  and  soul ; 
thus  your  work  will  be  made  more  fruitful  and 
your  religion  more  cheerful." 

"  You  would  then  have  us  cultivate  cheerful- 
ness," said  the  young  man,  with  a  sneer. 


224  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

"  To  be  sure !  and  as  for  yourself,  you  would 
in  that  way  get  friends  in  the  world  ;  for  it  is 
only  when  we  are  happy  that  we  are  able  to 
see  and  love  what  is  good  in  others.  And  you 
cannot  love  God  unless  you  love  your  fellow- 
raen." 

No  one  venturing  to  contradict  this  state- 
ment, Odegaard  tried  a  second  time  to  sum  up 
the  conclusions  and  put  an  end  to  the  inter- 
view, saying,  — 

"  The  things  which  disenthrall  our  minds,  so 
that  the  Spirit  of  God  can  do  its  work  in  our 
hearts  (for  it  does  not  work  in  the  hearts  of 
slaves) ;  the  things  that  do  this  most  be  a 
blessing,  and  amusements  must  therefore  be 
right  and  proper." 

The  priest  rose ;  he  again  had  a  pipe  to 
clear. 

In  the  stillness  which  now  followed,  and 
which  was  not  broken  by  sighs,  the  bundle  of 
shawls  was  again  seen  stirring,  and  finally 
Randi  said,  gently,  — 

"  It  is  written,  '  Whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to 
the  glory  of  God  ; '  but  can  worldly  singing  and 
playing  and  dancing  be  to  the  glory  of  God?  " 

"  No,  not  directly ;  but  may  we  not  ask  the 
same  question  in  regard  to  our  eating,  sleeping 
And  clothing  ourselves  ?     And  yet  we  mtist  do 


THE   FISHER   MAIDEN.  225 

these  things.  The  inference,  therefore,  is  inev 
itable  that  you  most  refrain  from  that  which  ia 
sinful." 

"  Yes,  but  are  not  these  things  sinful  ?  *' 

For  tlie  first  time  Odegaard  became  somo- 
what  impatient ;  he  therefore  merely  answered : 

"We  read  in  the  Bible  that  both  singing 
and  playing  and  dancing  were  common  in  an- 
cient times." 

"  Yes,  to  the  glory  of  God." 

"  Very  well  —  to  the  glory  of  God.  But 
why  did  the  Jews  always  name  God  in  connec- 
tion with  everything?  Because  they  were 
children  and  had  not  yet  learned  to  make  dis- 
tinctions. To  children  all  strangers  are  '  the 
man.'  To  the  child's  question,  '■  Where  does 
this  or  that  come  from,'  we  always  give  the 
same  answer,  '  from  God.'  But  as  grown 
men,  when  we  speak  to  grown  men  we  also 
name  the  intermediate  cause ;  we  name  not 
only  the  giver,  God,  but  also  the  person  to 
whom  we  are  indebted.  Thus  it  is  possible 
that  a  beautiful  song  may  treat  of  God  or  lead 
us  to  God,  although  the  name  of  God  is  not 
mentioned  in  it ;  for  many  things  lead  to  Him, 
though  indirectly.  Our  dancing,  when  we  do 
it  for  our  health  and  for  innocent  amusement, 
U  a  way,  though  it  be  an  indirect  one,  of  prai»' 
If 


226  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

ing  JKw,  who  gave  us  health,  and  loves  to  pre- 
serve in  us  the  hearts  of  children." 

"  Bear  that  in  mind  !  think  of  that  I "  said 
the  priest.  He  was  conscious  that  he  for  a  long 
time  had  misunderstood  these  things,  and  that 
he  had  misinterpreted  them  to  others. 

But  Lars  had  long  been  occupied  in  silent 
reflection.  Now  he  was  ready.  The  grain  had 
gradually  been  sinking  from  the  broad  brow 
down  into  the  short,  crabbed,  lower  part  of  the  • 
face ;  it  had  been  crushed  and  ground,  and  the 
giist  was  now  brought  forth. 

"  Are,  then,  all  kinds  of  fables,  stories,  and 
tales,  all  kinds  of  poetry  and  fiction,  with 
which  books  are  fiUed  nowadays, — I  say,  are 
they^  too,  allowable  ?  Is  it  not  written,  '  Keep 
thy  lips  from  speaking  guile.'  " 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  speak- 
ing of  this.  Your  mind,  you  see,  is  like  the 
house  you  live  in.  If  it  were  so  small  that  you 
scarcely  could  walk  erect  or  stretch  your  limbs 
in  it,  you  would  have  to  go  to  the  trouble  of 
enlarging  it.  And  just  so  poetry  elevates  and 
expands  the  mind !  Should  all  our  thoughts 
and  ideas  that  are  beyond  our  actual  necessities 
be  false,  then  the  most  necessary  ones  would 
also  soon  become  so.  They  would  so  contract 
you  in  your  earthly  tenement  that  you  would 


THE   FISHEB   MAIDEM.  227 

nerer  reach  eternal  life,  the  very  goal  for  which 
you  are  striving,  and  it  is  these  very  thoughts, 
which  by  faith  should  bear  you  heavenward." 

"  But  poetry,  is  not  that  something  which 
has  no  foundation  in  fact ;  is  it  not  falsehood  ?  " 
inquired  Randi,  thoughtfully. 

"  No,  there  is  often  more  truth  in  it  than 
there  is  in  what  we  actually  see  before  our 
eyes,"  answered  Odegaard. 

They  all  looked  at  him  with  skeptic  eyes, 
and  the  young  man  remarked,  — 

"  I  never  knew  before  that  the  stories  about 
Cinderella  had  more  of  truth  in  them  than 
there  is  in  what  I  see  with  my  own  eyes." 

They  all  tittered  a  little. 

"  Then  tell  me  whether  you  always  compre- 
hend the  things  that  you  see  around  you." 

"  I  suppose  I  am  not  suflBciently  learned." 

"  Ah,  the  learned  are  even  more  at  a  loss  to 
understand  them  than  you  are !  I  refer  to 
such  things  in  our  every-day  life  as  bring  sor- 
row and  pain  and  which  make  us  worry  our- 
selves gray,  as  the  saying  is.  Do  not  such 
things  happen  to  us  ?  " 

He  did  not  answer,  but  from  the  depths  of 
the  bundle  of  shawls  was  heard,  — 

"  Yes,  very  often." 

"But  supposing  you  read  a  fictitious  story 


228  THE   FISHER  MAIDEN. 

which  resembled  your  own  experience  in  such  a 
manner  that  it  made  you  understand  yourself ; 
would  you  not  say  of  that  story  which  gave 
you  the  key  to  your  own  life,  and  which  gave 
you  the  comfort  and  courage  gained  by  knowl- 
edge, that  you  found  more  truth  in  it  than  in 
your  own  life  ?  " 

The  light-complexioned  woman  said,  — 

"  I  once  read  a  story  which  so  aided  me  in 
my  sorrow,  that  it  almost  turned  my  affliction 
into  joy." 

The  bundle  of  shawls  coughed  faintly,  add- 
ing, in  a  timid  voice,  — 

"  Yes,  that  is  true." 

But  the  young  man  would  not  give  his  con- 
sent to  this  concession,  and  so  he  asked,  — 

"Can  anybody  find  comfort  in  the  stories 
about  Cinderella  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,  everything  has  its  use.  That 
which  is  ludicrous  has  great  influence  over  us, 
and  the  story  of  Cinderella  shows  in  a  humor- 
ous manner  how  one  whom  the  world  regards 
as  most  insignificant,  may  still  be  of  great  im- 
portance.  It  shows  how  everything  is  made  to 
serve  one  who  has  a  stout  heart,  and  how  there 
is  a  way  where  there  is  a  will.  Do  you  not 
think  it  might  be  well  for  both  children  and 
grown  people  to  remember  that  story  ?  " 


THE   FISHES  MAIDEN.  229 

"  But  to  believe  in  witchcraft  and  trolLi  is 
superstition,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Who  has  said  that  you  shall  believe  in 
them  ?     They  are  mere  figures  of  tpeech  !  " 

"  But  we  are  forbidden  to  use  images  and 
figures  ;  they  are  all  devices  of  the  devil." 

"  Is  that  so  ?     Where  do  you  find  that  ?  " 

"  In  the  Bible." 

"  No,"  the  priest  now  interposed,  "  that  is  a 
mistake ;  for  the  Bible  itself  makes  use  of  fig- 
urative language." 

They  all  looked  at  him. 

"It  makes  use  of  figures  on  every  page," 
continued  the  priest,  "  for  the  oriental  peoples 
have  a  marked  tendency  to  express  themselves 
figuratively.  We  have  imagery  in  our  churches 
and  in  our  language ;  we  employ  it  in  wood,  in 
stone,  and  on  canvas ;  and  we  are  unable  to 
conceive  the  Godhead  otherwise  than  through 
an  image.  Nor  is  this  all.  Christ  makes  use 
of  figures  of  speech  ;  and  did  not  the  Almighty 
Himself  assume  various  forms  and  disguises 
when  He  revealed  Himself  to  the  prophets? 
Was  it  not  in  the  form  of  a  traveler  He  came 
to  Abraham  ii.  Mamre  and  ate  at  his  table? 
And  if  God  can  assume  various  forms  and 
make  use  of  figures,  then  man  certainly  can  do 
•o" 


230  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

They  all  had  to  agree ;  but  Odegaard  rose 
and  tapped  the  priest  gently  on  the  shoulder, 
saying,  — 

"  Thank  you,  sir  I  There  you  presented  the 
most  conclusive  evidence  from  the  Bible  that 
the  drama  is  allowable  I " 

The  priest  started  in  alarm  ;  the  smoke  which 
filled  his  mouth  came  forth  voluntarily,  as  it 
were. 

At  this  point  Odegaard  crossed  the  floor  and 
approached  the  bundle  of  shawls,  and  bent 
down  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  face,  if  it  had 
any ;  but  in  vain. 

"  Are  there  any  other  questions  you  would 
like  to  ask?"  he  inquired;  "for  you  seem  to 
me  like  a  person  who  has  reflected  on  many 
things." 

"  Oh,  the  Lord  be  merciful  to  me ;  my 
thoughts  are  not  always  what  they  should  be," 

"  It  usually  is  the  case  that  one  is,  during 
the  first  period  after  the  grace  of  conversion,  so 
filled  with  joy  at  the  wonders  that  have  been 
wrought,  that  everything  seems  useless  and 
improper.  He  is  like  the  lover  who  desires 
nothing  but  his  beloved." 

"  Yes,  but  look  at  the  first  Christians.  I 
should  think  we  might  take  them  for  our  ex 
amplea." 


THE   nSHER  MAIDEN.  281 

"  No,  their  peculiar  circnmstanoea,  placed  as 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  heathens,  were  dififer 
ent  from  ours,  and  demanded  of  them  a  rigor- 
ous life.  It  is  our  duty  to  imbue  the  life,  which 
we  find  about  us,  with  a  Christian  spirit." 

"  But,"  said  the  young  man,  for  the  first 
time  without  bitterness,  "  there  are  so  many 
passages  in  the  Old  Testament,  which  are  in 
direct  opposition  to  the  spirit  in  which  yon 
speak." 

*'  Yes,  that  is  true ;  but  those  passages  are 
now  void.  They  are 'done  away.'  As  Paul  says, 

*  We  are  ministers  of  the  New  Testament ;  not 
of  the  letter,  but  of  the  spirit.'     And  again, 

*  Where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  lib- 
erty.' And  still  further,  *  All  things  are  lawful 
unto  me,  but,'  adds  he,  '  all  things  are  not  ex- 
pedient.' But  we  are  fortunate  in  having  be- 
fore us  the  example  of  the  life  of  a  man  who 
demonstrates  to  us  what  Paul  meant.  I  refer 
to  that  of  Luther.  You  certainly  believe  that 
Luther  was  a  good  and  intelligent  Christian,  do 
you  not  ?  " 

They  had  no  doubt  of  that. 

"  Luther's  faith  was  cheerful.  His  was  the 
faith  of  the  New  Testament  I  His  opinion  was 
that  the  devil  was  veiy  apt  to  be  lurking  be- 
2iind  a  gloomy  faith.    Luther's  idea  in  regard  to 


282  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

fear  of  temptation  was,  that  he  who  fears  least 
is  least  apt  to  be  tempted.  He  made  use  of  all 
the  faculties  God  had  given  him,  including  the 
capacity  for  enjoyment ;  of  this  his  whole  life 
is  a  proof.  W.ould  you  like  to  have  me  cite  a 
few  instances  ?  The  pious  Melancthon  was  at 
one  time  so  busy  at  work  upon  an  essay  in  de- 
fense of  the  pure  doctrine  that  he  did  not  allow 
himself  time  to  eat.  Then  Luther  snatched  the 
pen  from  his  hand,  saying,  '  We  do  not  serve 
God  by  work  alone,  but  also  by  rest  and  quiet ; 
and  this  is  why  God  has  given  us  the  fourth 
commandment  and  instituted  the  Sabbath.' 
Again,  Luther  employed  figures  of  speech  in 
his  conversation  and  sermons,  the  amusing  al- 
ternating with  the  serious,  and  he  was  full  of 
splendid  and  witty  conceits.  He  also  trans- 
lated good  old  folk-lore  tales  into  his  mother- 
tongue,  and  stated  in  the  preface  to  them  that 
he  scarcely  knew  of  anything  better  for  moral 
instruction  except  the  Bible.  He  played  the 
lute,  as  you  perhaps  know,  and  sang  with  his 
children  and  friends,  not  only  hymns,  but  merry 
old  ballads,  too.  He  was  fond  of  social  games, 
played  chess,  and  he  used  to  invite  the  young 
people  to  dance  at  his  house.  All  he  asked 
was  that  it  should  be  done  with  modesty  and 
propriety      All  this  an  old,  simple-hearted  dis> 


THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN.  288 

ciple  of  Luther,  namely,  the  priest  Johan  Ma- 
thesius  has  recorded,  and  he  even  preached  it 
to  his  flock  from  his  pulpit.  He  urged  his 
hearers  to  follow  Luther's  example.  Let  us  do 
likewise  I " 

The  priest  rose,  saying,  — 

"  My  dear  friends,  let  this  suffice  for  to^iay." 

And  they  all  rose. 

"  Much  has  been  said  for  our  enlightenment," 
continued  the  priest;  "now  may  the  Lord  bless 
the  seed  that  has  been  sown  ! " 

"You  live,  my  dear  friends,  in  remote  and 
isolated  places.  Your  homes  are  far  up  in  the 
mountains,  where  the  grain  is  cut  by  the  frost 
oftener  than  by  the  scythe.  Such  barren  and 
deserted  mountain  regions  should  never  have 
been  built  upon.  It  would  be  better  to  turn 
them  over  to  trolls  and  to  the  grazing  cattle. 
Spiritual  life  does  not  thrive  well  up  there  and 
it  becomes  gloomy  like  the  surrounding  vegeta- 
tion. Prejudices  hang  over  life  like  the  rocks 
beneath  which  they  are  developed ;  they  cast  a 
dark  shadow  upon  your  hearts  and  tend  to  di- 
vide you.  May  the  Lord  unite  and  enlighten 
you !  I  thank  you  for  your  visit,  my  friends  I 
It  has  opened  my  eyes,  also,  to  many  new 
truths." 

He  took  each  one  of  them  by  the  hand  as  he 


284  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

bid  them  good-by,  aud  even  the  young  man 
extended  his  with  cordiality,  although  he  did 
not  look  up. 

"  You  are  going  over  the  mountain ;  when 
do  you  get  home?"  asked  the  priest,  as  they 
were  about  to  leave. 

"  Oh,  some  time  to-night,"  answered  Lars ; 
"there  has  been  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  and 
where  it  has  blown  off  there  is  a  thick  layer  of 
ice." 

"Yes,  my  friends,  you  deserve  great  credit 
for  seeking  the  church  under  such  oircum- 
Btances.  May  no  harm  befaU  you  on  your  way 
home." 

Erik  replied  in  a  low  tone :  — 

"  If  God  bat  keep  me  in  His  care, 
Assault  me  all  who  maj, 
I  can  rejoice  my  heart  in  prajer 
And  tread  the  narrow  way." 

"That  is  true,  Erik.  You  were  right  this 
time,"  said  the  priest." 

"  Wait  a  moment  I "  said  Odegaard,  just  as 
they  were  ready  to  start.  "  It  is  not  strange 
that  you  do  not  recognize  me ;  but  I  think  I 
must  have  some  relatives  in  your  neighbor- 
hood." 

They  all  turned  to  look  at  him,  even  the 
priest,  who,  of  course,  had  known  this  fact,  but 
had  doubtless  entirely  forgotten  it. 


THE   FISUKR  MAIDEN.  286 

"  My  name  is  Hans  Odegaard,  and  I  am  a 
son  of  Knud  Hansen  Odegaaid,  the  priest,  who, 
many  years  ago,  with  his  scrip  on  his  back,  wan- 
dered forth  from  among  yon." 

Then  was  heard  from  oat  of  the  handle  of 
shawls,  — 

"  Good  Heavens  I  Knad  Odegaard  was  my 
brother." 

There  was  a  aniversal  pause,  and  no  one 
seemed  able  to  say  a  word.  Finally  Odegaard 
asked,  — 

"  So  it  was  you  I  visited  once  when  I  as  a 
little  boy  went  up  there  with  my  father  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was." 

"  And  you  stayed  with  me  a  i^hile,"  said 
Lars.     "  Your  father  is  my  cousin." 

But  Randi  remarked  in  a  sorrowful  tone,  — 

*'  So  you  are  that  little  Hans  I  How  fast 
time  flies ! " 

"  How  is  Else  getting  on  ?  "  asked  Odegaard. 

"  This  is  Mse,"  said  Randi,  pointing  at  the 
woman  with  the  fair  complexion. 

"  Are  1/ou  Else,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Yon  were 
in  trouble  about  a  love  affair  at  that  time. 
You  wanted  to  marry  the  fiddler  of  the  parish. 
Did  you  get  him  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply. 

In  spite  of  the  twilight,  which  was  now  rap- 


286  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

Idly  coming  on,  Odegaard  could  see  that  Else 
was  blushing,  and  that  the  men  either  turned 
away  or  looked  down,  with  the  exception  of  the 
young  man,  who  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 
Odegaard  discovered  that  he  had  touched  upon 
an  unpleasant  subject,  and  so  the  priest  came 
to  his  aid. 

"  No,  Hans  the  fiddler  is  not  married.  Else 
married  the  son  of  Lars,  but  she  now  is  free 
once  more  ;  she  is  a  widow." 

She  again  blushed  crimson.  The  young  man 
observed  it,  and  smiled  contemptuously. 

But  Randi  interposed,  — 

"Yes,  you  must  have  traveled  a  great  deal. 
I  can  see  you  have  gathered  a  vast  store  of 
knowledge." 

"  Yes,  up  to  this  time  I  have  done  nothing 
but  travel  and  study ;  but  now  I  am  going  to 
stay  at  home  and  set  to  work." 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  way  of  the  world  I  Some 
people  go  abroad  and  get  light  and  wisdom, 
while  others  stay  at  home." 

And  Lars  added,  — 

"  It  is  often  hard  to  turn  the  soil  of  the  home- 
stead, and  when  we  help  a  man  on  with  a  hope 
of  making  him  useful  to  us,  he  deserts  us." 

"  There  are  so  many  vocations  in  life,"  said 
the  priest.     "  Each  one  must  follow  hifl  bent." 


THE   FISUEB   MAIDEN.  287 

"  The  Lord  knows  how  to  direct  our  work," 
Baid  Odegaard.  "  If  God  so  wills,  you  may  yet 
reap  the  fruits  of  my  father's  labors." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  have  no  doubt  of  that,"  said 
Randi,  in  a  meek  voice ;  "  but  it  is  often  hard 
to  wait.     Time  passes  so  slowly." 

The  visitors  now  took  leave.  The  priest 
stood  by  one  window  and  Odegaard  by  an- 
other, watching  them  as  they  proceeded  up  the 
mountains.  The  young  man  brought  up  the 
rear.  Odegaard  learned  in  regard  to  him  that 
he  was  from  the  city,  where  he  had  tried  vari- 
ous enterprises,  but  had  always  become  involved 
in  some  dispute  or  other.  He  believed  himself 
intended  for  something  great,  thought  that  he 
was  destined  to  be  an  apostle,  but  for  some  un- 
accountable reason  he  had  stopped  up  in  the 
Odegaard  neighborhood,  as  some  thought  from 
attachment  to  Else.  He  was  a  very  passionate 
man,  who  had  met  with  many  disappointments 
and  was  destined  to  encounter  many  more. 

The  visitors  had  again  become  visible  on  the 
mountain,  as  the  roof  of  the  stable  no  longer 
hid  them  from  view.  They  would  disappear 
among  the  trees  and  then  come  into  sight  again 
as  they  kept  wearily  climbing  higher  and 
higher.  There  was  no  path  in  the  deep  snow. 
The  trees  served  as  waymarks,  and  in  the  far 


238  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

distance  the  snow-capped  mountains  were  bea- 
cons pointing  out  to  the  wanderers  their  way 
home. 

But  from  the  sitting-room  in  the  parsonage 
came  a  couple  of  charming  preludes,  and  then,  — 

"  I  give  my  lays  to  the  Spring,  to  the  Spring ! 

To  the  Spring  that  is  yet  onbom ! 
I  give  my  lays  to  the  Spring,  to  the  Spring,  — 

And  I  marry  Hope  to  the  Mom, 
And  longings  to  longings,  and  my  heart  to  the  hoar 
"niat  kindles  the  air  with  a  mystic  power ! 
And  our  yonth  and  warmth  we,  too,  will  ally, 
And  join  together  —  the  Spring  and  I— 
And  woo,  and  win  over,  the  Sun  to  oar  side, 
Grim  Winter  to  balk  of  his  gloom  and  his  pride, 
Bursting  his  fetters,  and  freeing  the  rilh, 
To  dance  and  sparkle  over  the  hills; 
And  to  din  their  langhter  into  his  ear. 
Till  he  needs  mast  know  that  his  fall  is  near ; 
Then,  hunting  him  off  from  valley  and  brake. 
By  the  fragrance  of  myriad  blossoms  that  wake, 
I  give  my  lays  to  the  Spring,  to  the  Spring ! 

To  the  Spring  that  is  yet  anbom ! 
I  give  my  lays  to  the  Spring,  to  the  Spring, — 

And  I  marry  Hope  to  the  If  om  1 " 


CHAPTER  XI. 

After  that  day  the  priest  spent  but  little 
time  with  the  family;  partly  beciiuse  he  was 
busy  getting  ready  for  Christmas,  and  partly 
because  he  was  engaged  in  studying  whether 
the  drama  was  allowable  or  not.  The  mere 
sight  of  Petra  produced  dismay  and  confusion 
in  his  mind. 

While  the  priest,  therefore,  sat  m  his  study, 
either  writing  his  sermons  or  poring  over  a  vol- 
ume of  Christian  ethics,  Odegaard  devoted  his 
time  to  the  ladies,  between  whom  he  was  con- 
stantly making  compaiisons.  Petra  had  a  most 
changeable  nature,  and  was  never  the  same 
person.  Whoever  would  learn  to  know  her 
would  have  to  study  her  as  diligently  as  he 
would  study  a  book.  Signe,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  most  refreshing  in  her  unvarying  cordial- 
ity; her  movements  were  never  unexpected, 
for  her  very  nature  was  reflected  therein.  Pe- 
tra's  voice  had  every  color  of  tone ;  it  was  both 
shrill  and  gentle,  and  possessed  every  degree  of 
intensity.     Sigue's  was  peculiarly  pleasing,  but 


240  THE  FISHER  MATOEN. 

it  lacked  flexibility,  —  excepting  to  her  father, 
who,  in  a  masterly  manner,  was  able  to  dis- 
criminate its  slightest  variations.  Petra's  mind 
was  occupied  by  but  one  thing  at  a  time :  if  it 
chanced  to  be  attracted  by  different  things  at 
the  same  moment,  it  was  merely  to  observe, 
never  to  offer  any  help  or  interference.  Signe, 
on  the  other  hand,  had  an  eye  for  everything 
and  everybody,  and  divided  her  attention  in 
such  a  way  that  she  scarcely  seemed  to  be  be- 
stowing it  on  anything.  Whenever  Odegaard 
spoke  of  Signe  to  Petra,  the  latter  talked  like 
a  hopeless  lover  ;  but  when  he  mentioned  Petra 
to  Signe,  Signe  became  very  reticent.  The 
two  girls  often  talked  together,  without  re- 
straint, but  they  conversed  only  about  indiffer- 
ent matters. 

To  Signe,  Odegaard  owed  a  great  debt  of 
gratitude  ;  for  to  her  he  was  indebted  for  what 
he  called  his  "  new  self."  The  first  letter  he 
received  from  Signe  in  his  great  sorrow  seemed 
like  a  soft  hand  laid  on  his  brow.  She  related 
so  cautiously  how  Petra  had  come  to  them, 
misunderstood  and  persecuted,  and  explained 
with  so  much  delicacy  how  her  coming  must 
have  been  the  result  of  a  Divine  interference, 
"  that  no  life  might  be  blighted,"  that  it  sounded 
like  a  distant  call  in  the  forest  when  one  has 
gone  astray  and  knows  not  which  way  to  take. 


THE  nSHEB  MAIDEN.  241 

Signers  letters  followed  him  wherever  he 
went,  and  were  the  threads  which  bound  him 
to  life.  She  expected  that  every  line  would 
lead  Petra  directly  to  his  arms,  but  the  result 
was  just  the  reverse  ;  for  the  letters  revealed 
the  fact  that  nature  had  intended  Petra  to  be 
an  artist.  This  central  point  in  her  genius, 
which  Odegaard  himself  had  vainly  sought, 
Signe  was  unconsciously,  but  none  the  less  con- 
stantly, keeping  in  view,  and  as  soon  as  he 
realized  this  fact  he  saw  both  her  mistake  and 
his  own,  and  it  made  him  a  new  man. 

He  took  good  care  not  to  tell  Signe  what  her 
letters  had  taught  him.  The  first  word  should 
not  come  from  Petra's  friends,  but  from  her 
own  lips,  in  order  that  there  might  be  no  un- 
due haste.  But  from  the  moment  when  he 
made  this  discovery,  Petra  had  .  appeared  to 
him  in  a  new  light.  Why,  of  course,  these 
ever-changing  impulses,  each  felt  in  full  power, 
but  all  a  series  of  mutual  contradictions,  what 
were  they  but  the  beginning  of  an  artist's 
life  ?  The  task  must  be  to  gather  all  these 
impulses  into  one  grand  whole,  else  all  would 
be  mere  patchwork  and  her  life  a  failure.  She 
must  not,  therefore,  be  permitted  to  enter  too 
early  an  artist's  career  I     Her  wishes  must  be 

16 


242  THE  FISHER   MAIDEN. 

met  with  silence  as  long  as  possible,  nay,  il 
aecessary,  with  opposition. 

Occupied  in  this  manner  with  Petra's  future, 
she  became,  before  he  was  aware  of  it,  the  sole 
object  of  his  thoughts ;  but  he  was  working  for 
her  advancement  and  not  to  secure  her  for 
himself.  He  now  began  to  study  carefully 
everything  connected  with  art ;  he  looked  into 
the  life  of  artists  and  particularly  into  that  of 
actors.  He  found  much  that  must  shock  a 
Christian,  and  saw  that  there  were  many  and 
great  abuses.  But  did  he  not  find  them  every- 
where about  him?  Were  they  not  in  the 
church,  too  ?  Though  hypocrites  might  be 
found  among  the  priests,  still  their  calling  was 
a  high  and  noble  one.  When  the  work  for 
truth,  which  is  going  on  everywhere,  shall  be 
felt  in  life  and  in  poetry,  will  it  not  reach  the 
stage  also  ? 

He  gradually  gained  confidence  in  the  case 
he  had  in  hand.  It  afforded  him  great  pleasure 
to  learn  from  Signe's  letters  that  Petra  was  rap- 
idly progressing,  and  that  Signe  was  just  the 
one  to  help  her.  He  had  now  come  home  to 
visit  and  thank  this  guardian  angel,  who  was 
not  at  all  conscious  of  what  she  had  been  to 
him. 

But  he  had  also  returned  to  see  Petra  once 


TH£  FISUKR  MAIDEM.  Xi8 

more.  How  far  had  she  advanced  toward  the 
goal  ?  The  word  had  been  spoken.  He  ooald 
therefore  freely  talk  with  her  about  her  future. 
It  was  a  pleasant  thought  to  both  of  them,  foi 
it  enabled  them  to  avoid  speaking  of  the  past. 

Meanwhile,  they  were  soon  interrupted  by 
guests  from  the  city,  both  invited  and  unin- 
vited !  Still  matters  had  so  far  developed  that 
a  single  well-improved  opportunity  would  be 
suflBcient  to  clear  away  every  obstacle  —  and 
this  opportunity  was  afforded  by  the  arrival  of 
the  guests.  A  large  party  was  invited  to  meet 
them,  and  immediately  after  dinner,  while  the 
gentlemen  were  together  in  the  study,  the  con- 
versation turned  upon  the  drama  ;  for  the  chap- 
lain of  the  diocese  had  seen  a  work  on  Chris- 
tian ethics  lying  open  on  the  priest's  table,  and 
had  there  discovered  the  terrible  word  "  thea- 
tre." An  animated  discussion  followed,  and  in 
the  midst  of  it  the  priest  came  in.  He  had  not 
been  present  at  the  dinner-table,  having  been 
called  away  to  see  a  sick  person.  He  was  in  a 
grave  mood,  he  refused  to  eat,  nor  did  he  join 
In  the  conversation.  But  he  filled  his  pipe  and 
listened.  As  soon  as  Odegaard  noticed  that 
the  priest  was  sitting  quiet  and  paying  atten- 
tion, he  also  took  part,  but  his  efforts  to  pre> 
sent  his  views  were  for  a  long  time  fniitletM, 


244  THE  FISHER  MAIDEK. 

for  the  chaplain  had  a  way  of  exclaiming, 
whenever  a  conclusion  was  to  be  drawn  from 
the  proofs  already  presented  :  '*  I  object  I  "  and 
BO  the  proofs  themselves  had  first  to  be  proved. 
The  consequence  was  that  the  discussion  went 
backwards  instead  of  forwards.  The  debate 
had  already  passed  from  the  theatre  to  naviga- 
tion, and  now  in  order  to  settle  a  point  in  re- 
gard to  navigation,  it  had  gone  into  agriculture. 

But  at  this  juncture  Odegaard  appointed  the 
priest  as  chairman.  Several  other  priests  were 
present  and  a  sea-captain.  The  latter  was  a 
small  black-haired  man  with  a  very  corpulent 
form.  He  walked  on  a  pair  of  legs  which  beat 
the  floor  like  as  many  drumsticks.  Odegaard 
gave  the  chaplain  the  floor  in  order  that  he 
might  have  an  opportunity  of  presenting  in  a 
connected  statement  his  objections  to  the  thea- 
tre.    Accordingly  the  chaplain  began :  — 

"Even  upright  men  among  the  heathens 
were  opposed  to  the  drama.  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle objected  to  it  on  the  ground  that  it  cor- 
rupted the  morals.  I  admit  that  Socrates  occa- 
sionally went  to  the  theatre,  but  if  anybody, 
from  that  fact,  draws  the  conclusion  that  he 
approved  the  drama,  then  I  deny  it;  for  we 
have  to  see  many  things  that  we  do  not  ap* 
Drove.      The  first  Christians  were    zealonalj 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  245 

framed  against  the  stage.  Read  Tertullian  I 
Since  the  drama  has  been  revived  in  modem 
times  earnest  Christians  have  both  spoken  and 
written  against  it.  I  may  refer  you  in  thia 
connection  to  Spener  and  Francke,  and  to  such 
/Titers  on  Christian  ethics  as  Schwartz  and 
!lchleiermacher." 

*'  Listen  !  '*  exclaimed  the  captain,  who  rec- 
ognized the  last  name. 

*'  The  two  latter,"  continued  the  phaplaia 
*' admit  that  dramatic  literature  is  allowable, 
and  Schleiermacher  goes  so  far  as  to  think  that 
a  good  play  may  be  performed  by  amateurs 
before  a  private  company,  but  he  totally  con- 
demns acting  as  a  profession.  The. life  of  an 
actor  is  so  full  of  temptations  that  it  is  our  duty 
to  shun  it.  But  is  not  the  stage  a  temptation 
to  the  spectators?  To  be  moved  by  feigned 
suffering,  to  be  stimulated  by  fictitious  exam- 
ples of  virtue  (a  danger  we  can  better  guard 
ourselves  against  when  we  read),  leads  us  to 
believe  that  it  is  ourselves  we  see  represented. 
It  weakens  the  will  and  destroys  all  energy. 
It  awakens  a  morbid  appetite  for  hearing  and 
seeing  strange  things  and  makes  us  the  slaves 
Df  a  sickly  fancy.  Is  not  this  true  ?  Who  are 
jhe  people  that  mostly  attend  the  theatre  ? 
Kve  they  not  idlers,  who  want  to  be  amused, 


246  THE   nSHER  MAIDEN. 

sensnalists,  who  must  have  their  baser  appetites 
gratified,  vain  men  and  women,  who  desire  to 
parade  themselves  before  the  gaping  multitude, 
visionary  people,  who  fly  hither  and  thither 
from  the  realities  of  life,  which  they  have  nei- 
ther the  strength  nor  perseverance  to  battle 
with  ?  There  is  sin  before  the  curtain  as  well 
as  behind  it !  I  never  knew  earnest  Christians 
to  have  any  other  opinion  on  the  subject." 

"  You  really  frighten  me,"  said  the  captain. 
"  If  I  have  been  in  such  a  pitfall,  every  time  I 
have  been  at  the  theatre,  then  the  deuce  take 
me,  if  "  — 

"  Fy  I  captain,"  said  a  little  girl,  who  had 
entered  the  room,  *'  you  must  not  swear,  for 
if  you  do,  you  will  go  to  hell." 

"  You  are  right,  my  child,  you  are  right." 

But  Odegaard  took  the  floor :  — 

"  Plato  made  the  same  objections  to  poetry  as 
to  the  drama,  and  what  Aristotle's  opinion  was 
is  doubtful.  I  therefore  pay  no  attention  to 
them.  But  the  first  Christians  did  well  to  keep 
away  from  heathen  theatres,  so  I  may  safely 
pass  them  by,  too.  That  earnest  Christians  in 
modem  times  have  had  scruples  in  regard  to 
the  drama,  even  when  it  was  produced  in  a 
Christian  community,  I  can  understand,  for  I 
have  myself  been  in  doubt  on  the  subject.    But 


THE  WSHEB   MAIDEN.  247 

if  it  be  granted  that  it  is  proper  for  the  poet  to 
write  a  drama,  then  it  must  be  proper  for  the 
actoi  to  act  it ;  for  what  else  does  the  poet  do 
but  act  it  mentally  when  he  writes  it  with  en- 
thusiasm and  passion?  and  we  know  that,  ac- 
cording to  Christ's  own  words,  he  who  sins  in 
^is  thoughts  is  guilty.  When  Schleiermacher 
says  that  the  drama  must  only  be  acted  pri- 
vately by  amateurs,  then  he  asserts  that  the 
talents  which  God  has  given  us  are  to  be  neg- 
lected, while  the  Creator  designed  that  they 
should  be  developed  to  the  greatest  possible 
perfection;  for  to  that  end  they  were  given. 
We  are  all  actors  every  day  of  our  lives,  when 
we  in  jest  or  in  earnest  mimic  others'  or  make 
their  opinions  our  own.  This  talent  of  imitat- 
ing predominates  in  some  persons,  and  then  I 
would  like  to  know  whether  he  would  not  be 
the  sinner  who  neglects  to  develop  it.  He  who 
does  not  follow  his  calling  becomes  unfit  for 
other  work,  leads  an  unsettled  and  disordered 
life,  in  short  he  falls  a  far  easier  prey  to  his 
passions  than  if  he  followed  the  calling  pointed 
out  to  him  by  his  faculties.  Where  work  and 
pleasure  are  one,  temptations  are  excluded. 
But,  it  is  claimed,  the  calling  of  an  actor  ia  in 
'ts  very  nature  full  of  temptation.  Well,  there 
are  many  kinds  of  temptation.     To  my  mind 


248  THE   FISHEB   MAIDEN. 

that  calling  is  most  apt  to  lead  us  into  tempta 
tion  which  induces  us  to  think  ourselves  right- 
eous, because  we  bring  a  message  from  the 
Righteous  One,  which  deludes  us  to  believe  we 
have  faith,  because  we  preach  faith  to  others,  or, 
to  speak  more  plainly,  to  my  mind  the  priest's 
calling  presents  the  greatest  temptations  of  all." 

Then  followed  a  noisy  interruption. 

"  I  object,"  cried  the  chaplain. 

"  He  is  right,"  said  some  one  else. 

*'  Order  1 "   demanded  the  priest,  who  pre- 
sided. 

"  1  object,"  repeated  the  chaplain. 

"  He   is   quite   right  I "  was  shouted  by  an 
other. 

"  Order  I "  insisted  the  president. 

"  I  never  heard  before  that  priests  were  worse 
than  actors,"  interposed  the  captain. 

This  caused  great  laughter,  and  a  shout  came 
from  all  sides  ;  — 

"  That  is  not  what  he  said." 

The  captain  :  "  I  say  he  did,  the  deuce  take 
me,  if"  — 

"  There  I   There  I  captain,  the  devil  will  soor 
be  after  you,"  said  the  little  girl. 

"You  are  right,   my   child,  you   are  quite 
right,"  he  answered. 

Odegaard  resumed  the  broken  thread  of  his 
remarks :  — 


THE  FISHER   MAIDKT4  249 

"  The  danger  of  having  our  emotions  excited, 
of  acquiring  a  morbid  appetite  for  hearing  pa»- 
Bionate  and  fanciful  declamations,  and  of  appro- 
priating to  ourselves  the  character  of  modeb  in 
virtue  is  certainly  present  in  the  church  no 
less  than  at  the  theatre." 

The  statement  again  caused  great  clamor 
and  confusion,  which  awakened  a  curiosity 
among  the  ladies  to  learn  what  was  the  matter. 
They  opened  the  door,  and  when  Odegaard 
saw  Petra  among  them,  he  said  with  more  em- 
phasis :  — 

"  I  admit  that  there  are  actors  whose  emo- 
tions are  excited  on  the  stage,  and  who  when 
in  church  are  no  less  deeply  moVed,  and  yet 
continue  to  be  as  wicked  as  ever.  I  am  free 
to  admit  that  there  are  on  the  stage  many 
idle  babblers,  who  would  have  been  absolutely 
worthless  in  any  other  profession,  while  on  the 
stage  they  fill  a  place  for  which  they  are 
adapted.  But,  as  a  rule,  actors  are  like  sailors, 
frequently  placed  in  the  most  trying  positions  ; 
for  the  moments  preceding  the  dSbut  are  apt  to 
be  terrible  I  Actors  frequently  become  the  in- 
strument of  some  grand  work  in  the  hand  of 
Providence ;  they  are  often  brought  face  to  face 
with  unexpected,  grand,  and  sublime  scenes. 
A.11  this  fills  their  hearts  with  fears  and  aspinu 


250  THE  FISH£B  MAIDEN. 

tions  and  with  a  sense  of  unworthiness,  and  we 
know  that  Christ  chose  his  companions  among 
publicans  and  penitent  women.  I  accord  no 
license  to  actors.  The  greater  I  deem  their 
mission  in  the  land  — and  the  fact  that  a  coun- 
try produces  so  few  really  great  actors  is  suffi- 
cient proof  of  the  greatness  of  the  task  —  the 
greater  is  their  guilt  if  they  permit  themselves 
to  be  governed  by  rancorous  feelings  or  to  de- 
generate into  loose  frivolity.  But  there  is  no 
actor  who  has  not  been  taught  by  a  series  of 
disappointments  how  insignificant  is  applause 
and  flattery,  although  the  majority  pretend  to 
have  faith  in  both.  Thus  we  see  their  mistakes 
and  faults,  but  we  do  not  sufficiently  under- 
stand their  own  relation  to  them,  and  every- 
thing depends  on  that.'' 

As  Odegaard  resumed  his  seat,  several  gentle- 
men took  the  floor,  and  every  one  of  them  be- 
gan to  speak  at  the  same  time,  when  a  voice 
was  heard  at  the  piano  in  the  adjoining  room, 
singing,  — 

" Of  the  days  of  my  youth  now  I  dream," 

and  all  the  gentlemen  hastened  into  the  parlor. 
It  was  Signe  who  was  singing,  and  the  guests 
knew  of  nothing  more  beautiful  than  her  Swed- 
ish ballads.  One  song  followed  another,  und 
*ow  when  these  finest  popular  melodies  to  be 


THE  FISHER   MATOEN.  251 

foand  in  the  whole  world,  the  most  faithful 
expression  of  the  soul  of  a  great  people,  had 
produced  an  elevating  effect  upon  the  auditors, 
who  listened  with  expectant  rapture,  Odegaai*d 
rose  and  requested  Petra  to  recite  a  poem.  She 
most  have  anticipated  it,  for  a  scarlet  blash 
overspread  her  face.  But  she  immediately  came 
forward,  though  she  trembled  and  had  to  lean 
on  the  back  of  a  chair  for  support,  and  then 
with  a  countenance  pale  as  death,  she  began :  — 

"  He  longed  for  the  life  of  a  Viking  bold, 

He  pined  for  the  stormy  sea; 

His  mother  was  feeble,  his  father  old  — 

There  was  none,  save  he,  the  house  to  hold. 
*  Now  here,'  said  the  father,  '  is  a  marvel  lo  me. 

That  thoa  shouldst  so  pine  for  the  stormy  sea. 

Who  hast  not  a  lack  to  be  told.' 

"  He  sat  and  watched  the  clonds  at  night 
Drift  dark  through  the  gloomsome  skj; 
He  looked  and  longed,  with  main  and  with  might, 
Warriors  seemed  they,  bound  to  the  fight ! 
He  sat  and  watched  the  morning  break. 
And  the  glorious  sun  bound  forth,  awake  — 
A  monarch,  whose  robes  were  light- 

"  He  wandered  down  to  the  rocky  shore, 
Small  share  of  work  did  he. 
He  beard  the  blustering  breakers  roar, 
Shouting  the  deeds  of  the  days  of  yore ; 
He  saw,  in  the  fight,  the  seething  spray 
Tom  from  the  billows  and  toosed  away : 
And  the  heat  of  his  heart  grew  mors. 


252  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

•'  The  world  was  just  free  of  old  Winter's  chain : 
It  was  in  the  sweet  springtide ; 
And  out  on  the  stormy,  steel-gray  main, 
A  war-ship  fought  to  be  free  again, 
Tugged  at  her  anchor,  and  flapped  her  sails, 
Tattered  and  torn  by  a  hundred  gales. 
And  writhed  like  a  creature  in  pain. 

"  The  sailors  slept  mid  the  ocean's  roar, 
Or  caroused  on  the  brine-washed  deck ; 
Wlien  a  voice  fell  down  from  the  beetling  shore  • 
Reckless  and  mad  were  the  words  it  bore 

'  Do  ye  fear  to  ride,  now  the  waves  run  high  ? 
There  is  joy  in  the  venture  that  death  is  nigh : 
Give  me  the  rudder  —  I'm  longing  sore ! ' 

"  Long  and  loud  laughed  the  scornful  crew; 

'  Hark,  how  the  bantling  crows ! '  they  said, 
And  they  fell  to  their  cups  and  their  ease  anew. 
But  a  crag  he  tore  from  the  rock,  and  threw  — 
Two  men  fell  crashed,  with  a  shriek  of  pain  I 
The  sailors  sprang  to  their  feet  again. 
And  all  their  weapons  drew. 

"  Up  flew  the  darts,  like  birds  of  prey 

Athirst  for  his  j'oung  heart's  blood; 

Head  bare,  he  stood  to  the  open  day; 

He  tossed,  with  his  hand,  the  arrows  away. 
'  Wilt  thou  yield  the  rule  of  thy  brig  to  me, 

Or  fight,  which  lord  of  us  twain  shall  be? 

Whether,  0  chieftain,  say.' 

'  For  answer,  sped  through  the  air  a  spear, 

It  grazed  the  gallant's  cheek. 

Loud  fell  his  laugh  on  the  Viking's  ear: 
'  llie  arm  is  not  forged  that  mj'^  life  should  fear! 

In  Valhal,  as  yet,  they  wait  not  for  me  — 

But  long,  0  chief !  hast  thou  plowed  the  sea  : 

For  thee,  the  port  looms  near. 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  258 

'• '  So  thy  bark  and  her  fortunes  yield  to  my  hold. 
For  the  pulse  of  my  heart  beata  high ! ' 
The  skipper  smiled :  '  Thou  art  daring  and  bold, 
If  thou  longest  so  sorely,  as  thou  hast  told, 
Come,  be  my  warrior ! '    He  answered,  *  Nay  — 
I  waa  bom  to  command,  and  not  to  obey  i 
The  young  must  supplant  the  old.' 

**  Then  down  he  sprang  on  the  loose  crags,  nigher. 

And  flung  these  words  o'er  the  wave : 
'  Champions,  bound  not  by  love  of  hire, 

But  who  follow  the  lead  of  the  soul  of  flre. 

Let  the  stoutest  arm  in  the  battle  prove 

Which  of  us  twain  has  the  War-god's  love  — 

Which  of  us  twain  is  the  higher ! ' 

"  To  the  corsair's  brow  leapt  an  angry  glow, 
He  dashed  him  into  the  wave ; 
He  cleft  the  breakers  with  many  a  blow, 
Fighting  to  shoreward,  fiercely  and  slow. 
Till  he  clutched  the  shingles,  free  from  all  harms, 
And  was  taken  up  by  the  strong  young  arms  — 
Then  all  on  board  breathed  low. 

*'  But  the  chieftain  looked  in  the  stripling's  eye 
And  read  there  the  soul  of  fire ; 
And  it  pleased  him  well,  though  his  hour  waa  nigh. 
That  the  mien  of  his  foeman  was  gallant  and  high. 

*  Fling  him  arms,'  shouted  he  to  the  watchers  on  boatd. 

*  If  I  perish  to-night,  it  shall  be  by  my  sword 
In  a  hero's  hand  that  I  die ! ' 

**  All  under  the  cliff,  by  the  rock-strewn  shore 
Ah,  fierce  was  the  strife,  and  strong ! 
Bang  many  a  shout  mid  the  tempest's  roar: 
Crashed  many  a  blow,  that  the  wild  winds  bore  — 
llie  crags  moaned  back :  in  the  heart  of  the  mere 
The  foul  sea-dragon  snorted  for  fear, 
Then  grew  still  —  for  the  fight  was  o'«r. 


254  THE  ITSHEB  MAIDEN. 

**  All  and«r  the  cliff,  on  the  lonesome  strand. 

Lay  the  chief  of  the  corsair  crew. 

Thea  rose  a  shriek  from  the  lawlesa  bond : 
*  Perished  our  lord,  by  this  wolf-whelp's  hand ! 

And  over  the  vessel,  and  into  the  ware, 

Breaker  and  hurricane  daring  to  brave, 

Reckless,  they  battled  to  knd. 

"  Bat  ap  be  raised  him,  the  skipper  bold. 
And,  feebly,  thus  spake  he :  — 

'  The  Saga  ends  when  the  triumph  is  told, 
And  the  life  most  close  when  the  heart  grows  cold 
Warriors !  here  Is  a  chieftain,  fain 
To  storm  with  ye  o'er  the  restive  main : 
The  young  must  supplant  the  old ! ' 

^  Dark,  dark,  they  st«od  there,  the  pu^te-horda, 
Wild,  wild,  sobbed  the  swelling  sea; 
He  showed,  with  his  finger,  the  youthful  lord. 
His  place  was  waiting  at  Odin's  board : 
And  his  spirit  fled.    And  the  waves  w&iled  loud, 
Tke  youth  stood  fearlessly  there,  and  proud, 
And  leaned  on  the  chieftain's  sword. 

"  Slow,  slow,  all  eyes  were  on  him  turued 
There  leapt  to  his  cheek  a  fire ; 
His  bosom  throbbed,  and  his  temple  bnmod : 
He  sprang  to  a  rock  that  the  rough  sea  spaned  - 
Warriors  1  rear  me  a  hillock  of  stones, 
That  a  trophy  be  raised  o'er  the  hero's  bone*, 
As  his  dauntless  deeds  have  earned ! 

^  '  Bat,  ere  eve,  our  bark  must  be  on  tbe  wave, 
And  all  our  sails  unfurled ; 
For  many  a  hazard  have  we  to  brave, 
And  many  a  venture  and  exploit  to  crava- 
Life,  my  masters,  is  eager  and  fleet; 
And  idle  and  vain  are  the  loitering  feet, 
That  stay  to  mourn  o'er  a  grave! ' 


THE  FlSHEk  MAIDEH.  866 

'  All  OTv  the  sea,  at  the  close  of  day, 
Swept  a  dirge,  like  a  bird  of  night; 
It  died  —  mid  the  rocks  where  the  chieftain  lay 
It  died  —  and  the  glow  of  the  enn't  laat  rav 
Crimeoned  the  white  of  the  flatteriog  nil*, 
Unfarled  once  more  to  defy  the  galaa, 
And  fly  o'er  the  trackleiia  way. 

*'  Proud  stood  the  yoath  at  the  rodder's  bmd. 

His  hair  in  the  gnsty  wind. 

Close  by  the  coast  the  vessel  sped, 
'  Who  steers  the  corsair's  craft  V '  they  said; 
'  He  will  run  the  bark  on  the  sorging  reef  I ' 

Bat  the  father  looked  on  the  yoothfnl  chief. 

And  coold  not  speak,  for  dread. 

"  Ah !  he  smiled  on  his  sire  with  mirthfol  glee. 

From  amid  the  surf  and  the  spray : 
*  I  am  here  to  claim  permission,'  said  he, 
A  lord  of  the  winds  and  billows  to  be ! 
A  lack  have  I,  that  mast  needs  be  told  — 
I  long  for  the  life  of  a  Viking  bold« 
I  pine  for  the  stormy  sea ! ' " 

The  poem  was  recited  with  a  trembling  voice, 
bat  with  dignity  and  without  the  slightest 
trace  of  affectation.  Her  audience  stood  elec- 
trified, for  a  ray  of  sublimity,  beautified  by  all 
the  gorgeous  colors  of  the  rainbow,  was  beam- 
ing upon  them.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  and 
no  one  dared  stir;  but  the  captain  was  no 
longer  able  to  restrain  himself.  He  sprang  to 
his  feet,  and,  pufi&ng  and  gesticulating,  he  ex- 
elarimed :  — 

"  I  do  not  know  how  the  rest  of  you  feel,  but 


256  THE  FISHEB  MAIDEN. 

for  my  part,  when  I  am  surprised  in  this  man- 
ner, then  the  deuce  may  take  me,  if  "  — 

"  Captain  I  there  you  swore  again,"  said  the 
little  girl,  pointing  at  him  with  a  menacing 
finger;  "the  devil  will  come  and  take  you 
right  away." 

"  Well  it  makes  no  difference,  my  child  ;  let 
him  come,  if  he  wants  to,  for  now,  the  deuce 
take  me,  I  must  have  a  national  song." 

Without  any  other  special  urging,  Signe  took 
her  seat  at  the  piano,  and  the  whole  company 
joined,  with  merry  voices,  in  the  following 
song:  — 

"  My  Und  wiU  I  defend, 

My  land  will  I  befriend, 
And  my  son,  to  help  its  fortunes  and  be  faithfal,  will  I  tmin; 

Its  weal  shall  be  my  prayer, 

And  its  want  shall  be  my  care, 
From  the  rugged  eld  snow  mountains  to  the  cabins  by  the  main. 

"  We  have  sun  enough,  and  rain. 

We  have  fields  of  golden  grain; 
Bat  love  is  more  than  fortune,  or  the  best  of  sunny  weather; 

We  have  many  a  Child  of  Song, 

And  Sons  of  Labor,  strong, 
We  have  hearts  to  raise  the  North  Land,  if  they  only  beat  together 

"  In  many  a  gallant  fight 
We  have  shown  the  world  our  might, 
tkiA  reared  the  Norseman's  banner  on  a  vanquished  stranger's 
shore; 
But  fresh  combats  we  will  brave, 
And  a  nobler  flag  shall  wave, 
With  more  of  health  and  beauty  than  it  ever  had  bef on ! 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  267 

"  New  valor  shmll  buret  forth ; 

For  the  ancient  three-cleft  North 
BhaH  unite  its  wealth  and  power,  yielding  thanks  to  God  the  Oirer  1 

Once  more  shall  kinsmen  near 

To  their  brethren's  voice  give  ear, 
▲nd  the  torrents  of  the  mountains  wed  their  forces  in  the  rim 

'•  For  this  North  Land  is  our  own, 

And  we  love  each  rock  and  stone, 
From  the  ragged  old  snow  mountain  to  the  cabins  by  the  main ; 

And  our  love  shall  be  the  seed 

To  bear  the  fruit  we  need. 
And  the  country  of  the  Norsemen  shall  be  great  and  one  again ! " 

Here  Signs  rose  from  the  piano,  approached 
Petra,  put  her  arm  about  her  waist,  and  drew 
her  into  her  father's  study,  which  was  empty. 

"  Petra,  shall  we  be  friends  again  ? 

"  Oh,  Signe,  then  you  do  at  last  forgive  me  I " 

"I  could  do  anything  now!  Petra,  do  you 
love  Odegaard  ?  " 

♦'  Good  heavens,  Signe  I  '* 

"  Petra  I  I  have  thought  so  ever  since  the 
first  day,  —  and  I  supposed  that  he  was  now  at 
length  come  to  —  all  that  I  for  two  years  and 
a  half  have  thought  or  done  for  you,  has  been 
done  with  this  object  in  view,  and  father  has 
been  of  the  same  opinion.  I  am  sure  he  has 
talked  with  Odegaard  about  it  before  this." 

»*  But,  Signe!  "  — 

-Hush!" 

Signe  laid  her  hand  on  Petra's  lips,  and  has- 

17 


258  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

tened  out  of  the  room.  Somebody  had  called 
her.    The  guests  were  asked  to  sit  down  to  tea. 

There  was  wine  on  the  table,  because  the 
priest  had  been  absent  from  dinner.  During 
the  supper  the  host  sat  very  quiet  and  very 
earnest,  as  if  there  had  been  no  guests  at  the 
table.  But  when  the  others  were  about  to  rise 
he  tapped  his  wine-glass  and  said :  — 

"  I  have  a  betrothal  to  announce !  " 

All  fixed  their  eyes  on  the  young  ladies, 
who  sat  side  by  side  scarcely  knowing  whether 
they  should  sink  under  the  table  or  retain  their 
seats. 

*'  I  have  a  betrothal  to  announce ! "  the  priest 
repeated,  as  if  finding  it  diflicult  to  make  a  be- 
ginning. 

"  I  am  free  to  confess  that  at  first  I  was  not 
in  favor  of  it." 

All  the  guests  looked  at  Odegaard,  in  great 
amazement,  but  their  astonishment  knew  no 
bounds  when  they  saw  him  quietly  looking  at 
the  host. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  did  not  think  the  bride- 
groom worthy  of  the  bride." 

Here  the  guests  became  so  embarrassed  that 
no  one  dared  look  up,  and  the  courage  of  the 
young  ladies  having  failed  them  long  ago,  the 
Driest  had  only  one  countenance  to  speak  to, 


THE  nSHEB   MAIDEN.  259 

and  that  was  Odegaard's,  who  meanwhile  was 
enjoying  the  most  blissful  composure. 

"  But  now,"  continued  the  priest,  "  now  that 
I  have  become  better  acquainted  with  him,  the 
result  is  that  I  am  not  sure  that  she  is  worthy 
of  him,  so  much  has  he  grown  in  my  estimation. 
The  groom's  name  is  Art,  the  great  Histrionic 
Art,  and  his  betrothed  is  Petra,  ray  foster- 
daughter,  my  beloved  child.  May  your  union 
be  a  happy  one !  I  tremble  at  the  thought,  but 
what  God  has  joined  together  let  not  man  put 
asunder.  The  Lord  be  with  you,  my  daugh- 
ter!" 

In  a  trice  Petra  had  crossed  the  floor  and 
thrown  herself  into  the  priest's  arms. 

As  none  of  the  guests  resumed  their  seats, 
they  all,  of  course,  left  the  table.  But  Petra 
approached  Odegaard,  who  led  her  away  to  the 
farthest  window-corner.  He  had  something  he 
would  say  to  her,  but  she  would  not  let  him 
speak  before  she  had  said,  — 

"  To  you  I  owe  it  all !  " 

"  No,  Petra ! "  he  answered  ;  "  I  have  only 
acted  the  part  of  a  good  brother.  It  was  wrong 
of  me  to  wish  to  become  more;  for  had  that 
happened  your  whole  career  would  have  been  a 
failure." 

"  Odegaard ! " 


260  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN 

They  were  holding  each  other's  hands,  but 
their  eyes  did  not  meet.  After  a  little  while 
he  let  go  of  her  hands  and  turned  away.  But 
she  threw  herself  upon  a  chair  and  wept. 

The  next  day  Odegaard  left  the  parsonage. 

Toward  spring  Petra  received  a  large  letter, 
bearing  a  huge  official  seal.  It  frightened  her, 
and  she  took  it  to  the  priest,  who  opened  and 
read  it.  It  was  from  the  mayor  of  her  native 
town,  and  its  contents  were  as  follows  :  — 

"  Pedro  Ohlsen,  who  died  yesterday,  left  the 
following  will :  — 

"*The  property  which  I  leave,  of  which 
there  is  a  complete  inventory  in  my  account 
book,  which  will  be  found  in  the  blue  chest 
which  stands  in  my  room  in  the  house  of  Gun- 
laug  Aamundsdatter  near  the  mountain,  to 
which  room  the  aforesaid  Gunlaug  has  the  key, 
and  she  alone  is  acquainted  with  the  whole  mat- 
ter, —  I  hereby  bequeath  (provided  the  said 
Gunlaug  Aammidsdatter  gives  her  consent, 
which  she  cannot  do  unless  she  permits  that 
the  condition  herewith  inclosed  and  which  she 
alone,  as  the  only  one  who  knows  the  facts, 
can  perform,  be  fulfilled)  to  Jomfru  Petra,  the 
daughter  of  the  aforesaid  Gunlaug  Aamunds* 


THE  nSHEB  MAIDEN.  261 

datter,  provided  said  Jomfru  Petra  thinks  it 
worth  while  to  remember  an  old,  sick  man,  to 
whom  she  ha6  been  kind,  though  she  was  not 
aware  of  it,  for  it  was  not  possible  for  her  to 
know  it,  and  to  whom  she  has  been  a  joy  in 
his  closing  years,  wherefore  he  has  deemed  it 
proper  to  do  her  a  small  favor  in  return,  which 
he  trusts  she  will  not  despise.  May  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  poor  sinner ! 

Pedro  Ohlsen.' 
"I  therefore  take   the  liberty  of  inquiring 
whether  you  will  apply  directly  to  your  mother 
in  regard  to  this  matter  or  whether  you  wish 
to  have  me  attend  to  the  business  for  you." 

The  next  day  brought  a  letter  from  Petra's 
mother,  written  by  the  priest  Odegaard,  the 
only  person  to  whom  she  could  confide  these 
matters.  The  letter  stated  that  she  gave  her 
consent  and  fulfilled  the  required  condition, 
which  was  that  she  should  inform  Petra  of 
Pedro's  relation  to  her. 

These  tidings  and  the  bequest  awakened  pe- 
culiar emotions  in  Petra's  breast.  It  seemed  as 
if  all  her  hopes  and  aspirations  were  now  to  be 
realized.  It  was  another  indication  that  her 
time  for  leaving  the  parsonage  was  near  at 
Hand. 


262  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

Thus  old  Per  Olsen  had  fiddled  at  weddingi 
and  dances,  Per  Olsen  and  his  son  and  grand- 
son had  in  various  ways  toiled  and  labored,  for 
the  purpose  of  aiding  Petra  in  her  career  as  an 
artist.  The  sum  was  not  large,  but  it  was  suffi- 
cient to  give  her  a  start  in  the  world  and  hasten 
her  progress. 

Like  a  ray  of  sunshine  into  her  mind  came 
the  thought  that  now  her  mother  could  come 
and  live  with  her.  She  would  now  be  able  to 
be  a  joy  to  her  mother  every  day  and  thus 
atone  for  all  the  sorrow  she  had  caused  her  I 
She  sent  her  a  long  letter  by  every  mail,  and 
could  hardly  wait  for  the  answer.  When  it 
came  it  proved  a  great  disappointment,  for 
Gunlaug  thanked  her,  but  thought  it  would  be 
better  for  "  each  to  remain  in  her  respective 
place."  The  priest  now  promised  to  write,  and 
when  Gunlaug  received  his  letter  she  could  no 
longer  resist  their  entreaties.  She  had  to  tell 
her  guests  and  acquaintances  that  her  daughter 
was  to  be  something  great  somewhere,  and  that 
she  had  sent  for  her  to  come  and  live  with  her. 
This  turned  the  matter  into  a  very  important 
subject  of  gossip  in  the  town.  It  was  discussed 
ou  the  piers,  in  the  ships,  and  in  every  kitchen, 
Gunlaug,  who  up  to  this  time  had  never  men* 
tioned  her  daughter,  henceforth  talked  of  noth 


THE   nSHER   MAIDEN.  263 

ing  else  than  "  my  daughter  Petra,"  and  no  one 
henceforth  talked  on  any  other  topic  to  Gim- 
laug. 

The  time  for  Petra'a  departure  was  drawing 
near,  but  Gunlaug  had  not  yet  given  a  decisive 
answer,  and  this  was  a  source  of  great  trouble 
to  the  daughter.  On  the  other  hand,  she  re- 
ceived a  solemn  promise  from  the  priest  and 
Signe,  that  they  would  both  come  to  the  city 
and  be  present  at  her  first  appearance  on  the 
stage. 

The  snow  was  beginning  to  disappear  from 
the  mountains,  and  the  meadows  were  gradu- 
ally growing  green.  The  life  which  is  awak- 
ened by  the  coming  of  spring  in  the  fields 
among  the  mountains  is  as  full  of  energy  as  the 
longing  was  deep.  The  people  become  more 
elastic  in  their  walk  ;  they  do  their  work  with 
more  alacrity,  and  their  hearts  are  filled  with  a 
longing  to  travel  and  find  out  what  there  is 
beyond  the  lofty  mountains  that  shut  them  in 
i>n  eveiy  side.  Although  Petra,  too,  was  filled 
with  yearning,  she  still  loved  the  place  and 
everything  in  it  more  than  ever  now  that  she 
was  to  leave.  It  seemed  as  though  she  had  neg- 
lected her  surroundings  heretofore,  as  though 
■he  now  for  the   first   time   appreciated   their 


264  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

beauties.  Having  only  a  few  days  left  to  re- 
main, she  and  Signe  walked  about,  bidding 
adieu  to  everybody  and  everything,  and  taking 
a  parting  look  at  the  places  which  had  become 
so  endeared  to  them.  Then  it  was  announced 
to  them  by  a  peasant  that  Odegaard  was  up  at 
the  Oygards  and  that  he  was  about  to  come 
down  and  pay  them  a  visit.  The  announce- 
ment greatly  excited  both  the  girls,  and  they 
ceased  their  rambling  walks  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 

But  when  Odegaard  came  he  was  more  cheer- 
ful and  happy  than  he  had  ever  been  seen  be- 
fore. His  errand  in  the  parish  was  to  open  a 
popular  high  school  and  to  manage  it  himself 
in  the  early  stages  until  he  secured  a  suitable 
teacher.  Later  he  designed  to  set  other  proj- 
ects afoot.  In  this  way  he  would  pay,  he  said, 
a  part  of  his  father's  debt  to  the  parish,  and  his 
father  had  promised  to  come  and  live  with 
him  as  soon  as  the  school  building  was  finished. 
Both  the  priest  and  Signe  were  more  than 
pleased  with  this  accession  to  the  neighbor- 
hood. Petra,  too,  felt  happy,  but  still  it  seemed 
fitrange  to  her  that  he  should  take  up  his  abode 
in  the  place  just  as  she  was  leaving  it  forever. 

It  was  the  priest's  desire  that  they  togethei 
ihould  celebrate  the  Holy  Communion  the  daj 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  265 

before  Petra's  departure.  Thus  a  quiet  solem- 
nity pervaded  the  last  days  of  her  stay,  and 
when  they  talked  it  was  in  a  subdued  tone. 
All  seemed  imbued  with  this  sentiment,  and 
Petra  spoke  with  emotions  of  profound  serious- 
ness, as  her  eyes  rested  for  the  last  time  upon 
the  scenes  around  her.  Thoughts  of  her  past 
experiences  crowded  into  her  mind.  She  was 
making  up  her  account  with  her  former  self. 
Hitherto  she  had  never  looked  into  the  past, 
but  only  into  the  future.  Now  her  whole  life 
stood  before  her  from  her  childhood  up  to  the 
present  moment ;  the  first  enchanting  Spanish 
ballads  again  sounded  in  her  ears;  the  many 
mistakes  she  had  made  and  all  the  confused 
aspirations  of  her  childhood  and  youth  were 
one  by  one  taken  up  and  reviewed,  just  as  one 
would  examine  old  patterns.  If  there  was  any- 
thing she  happened  to  forget  there  would  be 
something  at  hand  to  serve  as  a  reminder ;  for 
each  object  was  in  her  mind  closely  associated 
with  some  thought  or  other.  Especially  did 
the  piano  recall  a  number  of  associations  that 
almost  overwhelmed  her.  She  would  sit  down 
by  it  without  being  able  to  play  a  note,  and  if 
Signe  played  she  could  scarcely  remain  in  the 
room.  She  was  happiest  when  alone.  This 
Odegaard  and  Signe  understood,  and  respected 


266  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

her  feelings.  Everybody  regarded  her  with  a 
Bad  kindliness,  and  the  priest  never  passed  her 
during  these  days  without  stroking  her  hair. 

At  length  the  day  came.  The  atmosphere 
was  hazy  and  the  sky  was  half  covered  with 
clouds.  The  snow  was  melting  on  the  mount- 
ains and  the  fields  were  growing  more  and  more 
green.  The  four  persons  remained  each  in  his 
own  room  until  the  hour  came  for  them  to  go 
together  to  the  church.  Besides  them  there 
was  no  one  present  except  the  deacon  and  a 
priest  who  had  been  invited  to  oflBiciate,  as 
Signe's  father  was  to  partake  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion. But  the  latter  had  determined  to 
preach  the  communion  sermon  himself,  for  he 
had  some  words  of  encouragement  to  say  to  his 
foster-child,  whom  he  was  soon  to  lose.  He 
spoke  as  he  was  wont  when  they  on  some  birth- 
day or  church  festival  were  sitting  at  his  own 
table.  Time  would  soon  show,  he  said,  whether 
the  period  which  she  now  was  closing  in  prayer 
to  God  for  mercy  had  laid  a  good  foundation 
for  her  future.  No  person  becomes  perfectly 
true  in  all  his  relations  before  he  has  found  his 
right  calling.  Hers  was  a  teacher's  calling, 
and  he  who  labored  earnestly  and  honestly  and 
Reserved  his  character  free  from  stain,  would 
reap  the  greatest  and  most  lasting  harvest.     It 


THE   FISHEB  MAIDEN.  267 

wsis  true,  he  said,  that  God  also  often  employed 
unworthy  instruments ;  and  in  a  higher  sense 
we  were  all  unworthy ;  but  He  accomplished 
his  ends  by  making  use  of  our  aspirations  and 
desires.  There  was,  however,  one  kind  of 
teaching  which  no  man  could  find  in  his  desires 
alone,  and  he  hoped  she  would  try  to  attain  to 
it;  we  must  all  aim  at  the  highest  and  greatest 
perfection.  He  gave  her  a  most  cordial  invita- 
tion to  come  and  visit  them  often,  for  the  very 
object  of  Christian  fellowship  is  that  it  shall 
help  and  strengthen  our  faith.  If  she  should 
stray  from  the  right  path  she  would  be  most 
apt  to  find  compassion  in  her  old  home,  and 
should  she  be  unable  to  understand  her  mistake, 
they  would  be  able  to  warn  her  vvdth  more  af- 
fection than  anybody  else. 

After  partaking  of.  the  sacrament  they  re- 
turned as  they  had  come,  and  the  remainder  of 
the  day  each  one  spent  in  solitude  ;  but  Petra 
and  Signe  sat  much  of  the  night  together  in 
Petra's  room. 

The  next  day  Petra  was  ready  for  her  jour- 
ney. At  the  parting  meal  the  priest  bade  her 
the  most  tender  farewell.  He  agreed,  he  said, 
with  her  friend  in  this,  that  she  ought  to  begin 
her  career  with  the  preparation  she  now  had, 
and  begin  alone.     In  the  struggle  which  was 


&6S  tfiE  HS&ER  MAtDEK. 

before  her  she  would  find  how  good  it  is  t< 
know  that  in  one  spot  on  earth  there  was  a 
small  band  on  whom  she  could  with  certainty 
cely.  Only  to  feel  sure  that  she  was  constantly 
i-emembered  in  their  prayers,  —  she  would  find 
how  much  help  there  is  in  that. 

After  thus  taking  leave  of  Petra  he  addressed 
a  word  of  welcome  to  Odegaard.  To  be  united 
in  love  in  a  common  work  was,  he  remarked, 
the  most  beautiful  beginning  of  mutual  affec- 
tion. By  this  toast  the  priest  surelj?^  did  not 
have  in  his  mind  that  which  in  his  words 
brought  the  blush  first  to  Signe's  cheeks  and 
then  to  Petra's.  Whether  Odegaard  turned 
red  in  the  face,  they  did  not  know,  for  neither 
dared  look  at  him. 

But  when  the  horses  stood  before  the  door, 
and  the  three  friends  had  formed  a  circle  about 
the  young  girl,  while  all  the  servants  were 
gathered  around  the  carriage,  Petra  whispered, 
as  she  for  the  last  time  embraced  Signe,  — 

"  I  know  that  I  soon  shall  hear  iTiiportant 
news  from  you.     May  God  bless  you  I  " 

An  hour  later  she  saw  only  the  snow-capped 
mountain-tops,  whicii  pointed  out  to  her  where 
the  parsonage  stood. 


CHAPTER  XIl 

One  eyening  just  before  Christmas  all  the 
tickets  were  sold  for  the  performance  at  the 
theatre  of  the  capital.  A  new  actress,  whose 
name  was  in  everybody's  mouth,  was  to  make 
her  dSbtU.  She  was  a  product  of  the  people, 
her  mother  being  a  poor  fisher-woman.  By 
the  help  of  strangers,  who  had  discovered  her 
talents,  she  had  attained  her  present  position, 
and  she  was  said  to  be  a  genius  of  great  prom- 
ise. Many  strange  things  were  whispered 
among  the  audience  before  the  curtain  rose. 
Rumor  had  it  that  she  had  been  a  terribly  wild 
girl,  and  that  after  she  was  grown  up  she  had 
betrothed  herself  to  six  young  men  at  the  same 
time  and  had  kept  up  the  engagements  with  all 
of  them  for  six  months.  Indeed,  the  town  had 
been  mad  with  excitement  on  her  account,  and 
she  had  been  escorted  out  of  it  by  the  police. 
It  was  very  strange  that  the  managers  of  the 
theatre  would  permit  such  a  person  to  appear. 
Others  insisted  that  there  was  not  a  particle  of 
kruth  in  these  reports.    Since  she  was  ten  yean 


270  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

old  she  had  lived  in  the  quiet  family  of  a  priest 
in  the  Bergen  diocese.  She  was  a  charming 
young  woman  of  culture  and  refinement ;  they 
were  well  acquainted  with  her  and  knew  that 
she  must  have  remarkable  talent,  for  she  was 
BO  beautiful. 

Others  sat  there  who  were  better  informed. 
First  among  these  was  Yngve  Void,  a  whole- 
sale dealer  in  fish,  whose  name  was  well  known 
throughout  the  country.  He  had  happened  to 
come  to  the  capital  to  look  after  his  business, 
but  some  people  said  that  his  hot-tempered 
Spanish  wife  made  his  house  so  warm  for  him 
that  he  had  to  travel  to  get  cool.  Now  he  had 
taken  the  largest  box  in  the  theatre  alone  and 
had  invited  some  of  his  chance  acquaintances 
at  the  hotel  table  to  go  with  him  and  witness 
"  some  strange  deviltry."  He  was  in  the  very 
best  of  humor  until  he  discovered  —  could  it 
possibly  be  he  ?  —  in  a  box  in  the  second  tier 
and  surrounded  by  a  whole  crew  of  sailors  — 
no  I  yes  I  —  yes,  indeed,  it  was  Gunnar  Ask ! 
—  Gunnar  Ask,  who,  with  the  help  of  his 
mother's  money,  had  become  the  owner  and 
captain  of  The  Norse  Constitution.  While  sail- 
ing out  of  the  fjord  he  had  happened  to  come 
alongside  of  a  ship  called  The  Danish  Consti- 
tntion ;  and  when  Gunnar  thought  he  observed 


THE  FISHER  MAIDEN.  271 

that  it  tried  to  pass  him,  he  made  op  his  mind 
that  such  a  thing  could  not  be  tolerated.  Ho 
stretched  every  stitch  of  canvas  he  had ;  it  made 
the  timbers  creak  in  the  old  Constitution,  and 
the  result  was  that  in  his  efforts  to  scud  before 
the  wind  as  long  as  possible,  he  very  unexpect- 
edly ran  his  vessel  aground.  Now  he  was  invol- 
untarily detained  in  the  city  while  his  vessel 
was  being  calked.  One  day  he  had  met  Petra 
in  town.  She  had  overtaken  him  on  the  street 
and  had  been  so  very  kind  to  him  both  then 
and  afterwards,  that  he  not  only  forgot  the 
grudge  he  bore  her,  but  declared  himself  the 
most  stupid  codfish  his  native  town  had  ever  ex- 
ported, that  he  had  ever  been  so  foolish  as  to 
think  that  he  was  worthy  of  such  a  girl  as  Petra. 
To-day  he  had  purchased  at  a  premium  tickets 
for  himself  and  for  his  whole  crew,  and  he  was 
sitting  there,  resolving  to  treat  the  latter  be- 
tween every  act.  The  sailors,  who  were  all 
from  Petra's  native  town,  and  ranked  among 
her  mother's  most  welcome  guests,  —  an  earthly 
paradise  her  tavern  was  to  them, — felt  Petra's 
honor  to  be  their  own,  and  as  they  sat  there 
♦;hey  promised  each  other  that  they  would  ap- 
plaud in  a  style  that  would  astonish  the  audi- 
ence. 

But  down  in  the  parquet  was  seen  the  thick 


272  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

bristly  hair  of  the  priest.  He  was  calm ;  for 
he  had  intrusted  Petra's  cause  into  the  hands 
of  a  Greater  One.  By  his  side  sat  Signe,  now 
Mrs.  Odegaard.  Her  husband,  Petra,  and  her- 
self had  just  returned  from  a  three  months' 
trip  abroad.  She  looked  happy  as  she  sat 
turned  toward  Odegaard  with  a  smiling  face ; 
for  between  them  sat  an  old  lady  with  snow- 
white  hair,  which  encircled  her  sun-burnt  coun- 
tenance like  a  silver  crown.  She  was  taller 
than  all  those  about  her,  and  could  be  seen  by 
every  one  in  the  audience,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  all  the  opera-glasses  were  directed  to- 
ward her,  for  it  was  said  that  she  was  the 
mother  of  the  young  actress.  She,  whose  name 
was  a  man's,^  made  so  great  an  impression  on 
the  audience,  that  it  reflected  honor  and  credit 
on  the  daughter  and  thus  aided  the  latter  in 
gaining  the  good-will  of  the  spectators  in  ad- 
vance. A  young  people  is  full  of  anticipation. 
It  has  faith  in  its  native  powers,  and  thus  the 
sight  of  the  mother  awakened  the  confidence  of 
the  audience  in  the  daughter. 

Gunlaug  was  oblivious  to  everything  about 
her.  She  cared  but  little  for  the  performance 
What  she  wanted  was  to  see  whether  the  pub 
!ic  were  kind  to  her  daughter. 

X  Gunlaug  is  frequently  a  man's  name  in  Norway 


THE  nSHER  MAIDEN.  278 

Time  passed.  The  conversation  died  away 
m  the  expectation  that  gradually  deepened  and 
increased  as  the  hour  for  beginning  drew 
nearer. 

A  lively  flourish  of  drums,  trumpets,  and 
brass  instruments  at  once  introduced  the  over- 
ture. "  Axel  and  Valborg,"  ^  by  Adam  Oehlen- 
schlaeger,  was  to  be  played,  and  Petra  had  her- 
self requested  this  overture.  She  sat  behind 
the  scenes  and  listened.  But  before  the  cur- 
tain sat  as  many  of  her  countrymen  as  the 
house  could  hold,  trembling  for  her,  as  we  al- 
ways do  when  the  first  step  is  to  be  taken 
where  we  look  for  a  grand  revelation  from 
some  one  we  hold  dear. 

Each  one  felt  as  if  he  were  the  one  that  was 
to  make  his  ovni  dSbut.  In  such  moments  many 
prayers  rise  to  heaven,  even  from  hearts  that 
seldom  pray. 

The  overture  was  drawing  to  a  close.     Peace 

-  "Axel  and  Valborg"  was  the  tragedy  Petra  heard  the  first 
tiir.e  she  went  to  the  theatre.  (See  chapter  vii.,  where  the  over- 
tare  is  described.)  One  version  of  this  popular  Scandinavian  leg- 
end will  be  found  in  the  ballad  of  "Axel  and  Walborg,"  which 
appears  in  Alexander  Prior's  Ancient  Danish  Ballads  (vol.  ii. 
p.  247) ;  another  in  Robert  Buchanan's^candiTwrian  Ballad  Storitt 
,pp.  117-159);  a  third  in  Oehlenschlseger's  tragedy,  "Axel  og  Val- 
borg;" and  a  fourth  in  Ckorge  Houghton's  charming  narrative 
poem  entitled  Tht  Legend  of  St.  Olaf$  Kirk,  recently  published 
in  a  revised  edition  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.  —  Ts. 
13 


274  THE  FISHER  MAIDEN. 

pervaded  the  harmonies,  and  they  gradually 
dissolved  as  into  sunlight. 

The  overture  closed.  Anxious  silence  en* 
Bued. 

Then  the  curtain  rose  ! 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

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«"^'»  2:3 1948 
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